


Our Love Lasts So Long

by infinitestarsintheskye



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fitzsimmons Secret Santa 2020, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Jemma Simmons Has No Chill, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pen Pals, Verbal Abuse, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28504725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitestarsintheskye/pseuds/infinitestarsintheskye
Summary: Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons are two extraordinary children, stuck, bored out of their minds in a class where the work is far, far too easy for them. But when their teachers give them a new letter writing project, their lives take a turn that neither could ever predict.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 84
Kudos: 63





	1. 1994 (Seven Years Old)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ughfitz (wokemeup)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wokemeup/gifts).



> SURPRISE Racquel it was me who was your Secret Santa this whole time! It was so much fun getting to know you and chat these past few weeks and as you guessed very very accurately, your prompt of Pen Pals AU (friends to lovers) absolutely set my imagination on FIRE and I promptly wrote about three pages of notes when my assignment first came through. This has been such a fun prompt to write, (and am still writing, the last chapter is still in progress, which I wanted it all finished for today but it has been a crazy month and I am honestly about 2k away from finishing) thank you so much for coming up with this, I’m not sure I ever would have written it or come up with it on my own, so yeah, thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

Leopold Fitz was bored. Being the only seven year old in a class full of twelve year olds had its downfalls. The work was still too easy for him, hence why he was bored. He wished that Mum had let him go to High School this year, but she wanted to keep him around children his own age for as long as possible. Not that they understood him much, nor he, them. His teacher, Miss MacIntosh was going on and on at the front of the classroom, but Fitz wasn’t paying attention, instead doodling in the margins of his writing jotter. 

“We have a very exciting writing project this term! I have been in contact with a teacher who works down in England and together we have paired you up with another member of her class and for the rest of term you will be writing letters back and forth to each other!” Miss MacIntosh announced excitedly. 

Fitz couldn’t find it in himself to get too excited about this, and let out a long sigh as he dragged his pencil across the page, shading in the monkey now dancing in his margin. He didn’t think that some English twelve year old would think him less of a baby than his current classmates did. The girl who sat next to him, Ailish, raised her hand excitedly. 

“Like pen pals Miss MacIntosh?” She asked as the teacher nodded at her. 

“Exactly like pen pals Ailish!” Miss MacIntosh replied happily. 

Out of the corner of his eye Fitz saw Ailish beaming as she relaxed back into her seat. Fitz let out another long sigh. At least  _ someone  _ was happy about this.

“Now, I’m going to come around and give you all a slip of paper with your pen pals name on it. When you’ve got it, I would like you all to start writing your letters using the proper letter format that we learned last week, okay?” 

The class let out a collective murmur of agreement. 

“Perfect! Yes Owen?” Miss MacIntosh asked, turning to the other side of the room where a stocky little boy had shot his hand up in the air. 

“What should we write in our letters?” Owen asked. 

Fitz rolled his eyes, thankful that Miss MacIntosh’s gaze was far away from him. 

“Well introducing yourself would be a good start! Tell your pen pal about the things you like to do, maybe about what you’ve been learning about in class, about your families, your brothers and sisters! It is up to you! Once you’re finished, bring it to me to check over and we can put it in an envelope and I will make sure it gets sent off to your new pen pals!” 

Miss MacIntosh started flitting about the room, handing out the slips of paper. She came to Fitz last. She knelt by his chair, bringing herself to his eye level. Fitz hated when she did this. She never did it to anyone else. It made him feel like even more of a baby and he couldn’t stand it. 

“Now Leo, I have a very special penpal for you.” Miss MacIntosh started, her voice gentle. 

Fitz’s stomach dropped. They’d probably pulled one of the students from one of the younger classes, someone his own age to write to him. Who knew what unintelligible scrawl he’d soon be receiving. 

“In Miss Barton’s class there is another very special child just like you. She is also seven years old, and very very clever, just as you are.” She continued. 

Fitz perked up at her words. Another person like him? 

“R-really?” He asked, his eyes wide. 

“Really.” Miss MacIntosh smiled. 

She placed the slip of paper down in front of Fitz and he looked at it eagerly. 

**Jemma A. Simmons (7 years old)**

He gazed at the paper for a while unable to believe his luck. 

“Miss Barton and I thought it would be good for you to talk to someone who's well, who's like you.” Miss MacIntosh smiled. 

“Thank you.” Fitz breathed. 

Miss MacIntosh gave him a small nod, before sliding the slip of paper closer to him, and getting up. Fitz pulled the paper closer to him staring wonderingly at the name. Ripping out the piece of paper that he’d been doodling on, and crumpling it up into a ball, Fitz stared down at the blank piece of paper, before grabbing his pencil and beginning to write, his tongue sticking out of his mouth. 

_ 20/10/1994 _

_ Dear Jemma Simmons. _

_ My name is Leopold Fitz and I am seven years old. Please don’t call me Leopold. Leo or Fitz is okay though. My teacher says that you’re seven too. That you’re in a class of twelve year olds like me too. I wish I wasn’t, but mum won’t let me go to high school yet. You must be smart like me to be ahead of everyone else. I was beginning to think I was the only one in the whole world like me.  _

_ Miss MacIntosh says we should write about our families, but it’s only just me. And mum and dad. We live in Scotland, in a place called Glasgow. It has a big river going through it called the Clyde. That’s where dad works. Lots of big ships come in there and he helps build them and look after them. _

_ When I grow up I want to design planes though, and rocketships! Dad says ships are better, but imagine being able to make something fly, or go into space! I like looking at the stars, do you? My favourite constellation is the Plough because it was the first one I learned how to find. Mum got me a big book for my birthday. That and my monkey toy who I called Jamie, after James Watt who invented the steam engine. He was Scottish too! Do you have a favourite animal? I love monkey’s, which is why mum got me Jamie. I really want to go to the zoo so I can see one in real life, rather than just in pictures.  _

_ I’m really looking forward to getting your first letter. _

_ Yours _

_ Leo Fitz.  _

Fitz leaned back and read over what he’d written. Pleased with it, he looked up, and saw that everyone else was still writing. A boy on the other side of the classroom was still asking how to lay his letter out properly. Fitz grabbed his jotter and trotted up to where Miss MacIntosh was helping the poor boy, and hovered patiently behind her. She turned and looked down at him, and he held out his book towards her. 

“I’m finished.” He said plainly.

Miss MacIntosh had long stopped being surprised with how quickly Fitz finished the work she set him. Her eyes skimmed over his work, and Fitz watched as her mouth curled up into a smile. 

“This is a lovely letter Leo! I’m sure Jemma will love reading it! Come on let's go and find an envelope for you to put it in.” Miss MacIntosh gushed. 

And for the first time, Fitz found that he was really really looking forward to a school project. Not even the tart, yet oddly sweet and disgusting taste of the envelope glue could sour his mood. 

He bounced home from school, a spring in his step. He bounded into the small house, finding his mother fussing with something in the kitchen. Fitz tossed his schoolbag down dramatically and beamed up at her, before tossing himself into her arms. 

“Good day at school my wee monkey man?” Lorna Fitz cooed into his ear.

Fitz pushed back from her, so he could see her face, her arms still wound carefully around him. 

“Amazing! Miss MacIntosh gave us a new project! We’re writing letters to a class down in England and there’s a girl the same age as me in the class! She’s like me mum!” Fitz exclaimed happily. 

Fitz watched his mothers eye’s widen and a look of astonishment cross it, before a smile spread wide across her features. 

“That’s amazing Leo! Will she be writing letters back?” Lorna asked with a smile. 

Fitz nodded eagerly. 

“Yeah! Miss MacIntosh says that she’ll post our letters tomorrow and we should get a reply by next Friday!”

“That’s so amazing Leo, I’m so happy for you!” She exclaimed, punctuating her sentence by kissing him soundly on the cheek. 

Fit grinned and buried his head into her shoulder, breathing her in. He felt happy and safe here. He always had. The sound of the front door slamming behind him made him jump, and he lost his grip, his arms falling slightly from his mothers back. One small turn of his head showed his father looming in the doorway. He brought with him a smell that Fitz detested. He’d once asked his mother what it was, but she’d avoided answering him. It was heavy, and almost sickly, sweet in all the wrong ways and musky. Fitz felt his mothers grasp on him change slightly. She held him tighter, closer to her, her hands urgent. 

“Can you grab your school bag and go up to your room for me Leo? Close the door and don’t come out till I come to get you. Can you do that for me? Promise?” 

Fitz didn’t like it when his mum spoke like this. She smiled at him, but she spoke quickly and quietly at him, low enough that he knew his father wouldn’t be able to hear her. There was something awful lying underneath the false softness. Fitz wasn’t stupid. He knew what was about to happen. He nodded his head quickly. 

“Good boy.” His mother whispered, pressing another quick kiss to his cheek, before letting him go.

He dashed for his bag and watched his fathers eyes follow him, out of the room and to the foot of the stairs. 

“Where are you going?!” His father bellowed. 

Fitz kept going. 

“Useless stupid boy!! Leopold!” The deep voice shouted after him. 

He didn’t look back. The bellowing continued. He tried to shut it out as best as he could. Shutting the door to his bedroom firmly, the shouts were muffled slightly, but Fitz could still make out every single word. Fitz threw his school bag down and dived for his bed, shoving his head under his pillow. It had to stop eventually. It went on for Fitz couldn’t say how long. Sometimes it felt like hours. Sometimes the shouts were accompanied by thuds or smashing. But there was none of that today. The whole house shook with the slam of the front door, and Fitz knew it was safe to pull his head out from his pillow. He stared at the door. He had promised. He always did as he promised. After a few minutes, Fitz heard the familiar soft steps, and the creak of his door, watching as his mum slid in. Her face was red. It was always red when this happened. Fitz knew what to do by now. Lorna sat on his bed next to him and silently pulled him into her lap, wrapping her arms around him. Fitz tucked his head into her shoulder, his safe place and felt his shoulder growing wet. 

“It’s okay mum. I’ll look after you.” He mumbled into her shoulder. 

Lorna just nodded her head and pulled him closer. It would be okay. It would all be okay. 

A few days later, and a few hundred miles south, Jemma Simmons was bored. She’d long finished the maths problems that Miss Barton had set them. She’d even found a mistake in her textbook, and corrected it with her pencil. She supposed she could go and play or read, but she’d long read every book in the classroom, and the toys weren’t up to much. There were only so many games of chess she could play against herself on the ratty old set that no one but her ever seemed to touch. Just as Jemma had nearly brought herself around to a couple of games of chess, Miss Barton’s voice sounded out across the classroom. 

“Right everyone! You should all be finished by now, if not, you will have an opportunity to catch up at the end of the day. Please pack up your maths things and then sit down quietly.” 

Jemma could have recited the words in her sleep. She neatly placed her maths book in the tray for marking, before sitting down, hoping, praying for something exciting to do, finally. 

“Now, as I mentioned last week, we will be starting a new writing project, writing letters back and forth to a class up in Scotland. It was their turn to write to us first, and yesterday…” Miss Barton trailed off, before pulling a thick wad of envelopes from her desk. 

At this Jemma perked up. Miss Barton had pulled her aside that afternoon and told her about a boy the same age as her in the class they were writing to. A boy who had been moved up several years, who was smart like her. A murmur of excitement ran through the room. 

“... the first lot of letters arrived! Now, I will call you all up individually and let you read your letters, and then I would like you all to write a response. I will put the writing paper on my desk, so come up and take a piece once you’ve finished reading. I will look over it and then we can put it in an envelope and send it back again!” Miss Barton finished excitedly. 

She started calling out names and Jemma started fidgeting in her seat, eagerly waiting on the sound of her own name. When finally, it was called Jemma leapt, quite literally, off of her too large chair, and darted up to the front of the room to get her letter. She tore open the envelope eagerly on her way back to her seat, which she clambered back onto, got herself comfortable and began to read. A smile spread widely across her little face as she read. She read it twice before summarising her favourite parts in her head. He was called Leo, he liked monkeys, he wanted to build spaceships and he liked stargazing. Like her. He wanted to go to high school but his mum wouldn’t let him yet. Like her. She wondered if he was as bored as she was. That was something she could ask him. Her eyes flew over the letter one more time, before she darted up to the front of the classroom to get the writing paper. 

_ 24/10/1994 _

_ Dear Leo Fitz _

_ Thank you very much for your first letter, I loved reading it! It was nice to hear from someone like me. I know it can feel a bit lonely sometimes. I also really want to go to high school, but my mum won’t let me go either. Hopefully she’ll let me go next year. I’m bored a lot in class, because I know how to do everything. Are you bored a lot at school too? I can imagine you are if you’re like me. Smart for your age I mean. I end up playing a lot of chess against myself, since no one else knows how to play. I do a lot of work outside of school, on my own. Mummy takes me to the library every week and I can get five books out on my card. Usually I’ve finished them in a couple of days. I’m teaching myself integrals right now.  _

_ I’m an only child too. Just us three. Mummy works in a bank and Daddy is an accountant. Mummy says I get all my brains from Daddy, but she’s very clever too. We live in Sheffield, which is right in the middle of England. It can be lonely sometimes. Everyone in my class treats me like a baby, even though I know more than them, and everyone my own age looks at me like I’m speaking a different language. I wonder if you feel the same.  _

_ You’ll be glad to know that I love stargazing! Daddy and I go out and look at the stars whenever there’s a clear night, even now when it’s really cold! We just get all wrapped up and lay a blanket down and cuddle together. I really really really want a telescope for Christmas. It’s on the very top of my list. That and my own bunsen burner, but Mummy already said no to that. My favourite constellation is Serpens! Well really it’s Theta Sepentis, which is a part of Serpens! Do you have a favourite part of the Plough! I really like Dubhe, because it’s what helps me to find Polaris, the pole star!  _

_ I love that you love monkeys! I like them too, and I have a big poster of Jane Goodall on my wall. She’s one of my heroes. My favourite animal changes a lot! They’re all so fascinating and can do some really interesting things with their biology. Right now my favourite are cuttlefish! They can change their skin colours with chromatophores! When I grow up I want to be a biologist and study them properly. I cannot wait until I can get into a lab properly. I want to be able to do things with what I’ve learned!  _

_ I’m very much looking forward to hearing from you again!  _

_ Yours  _

_ Jemma Simmons. _

Jemma read over her letter three times, checking it over for spelling errors and mistakes of any kinds. Bringing her head up she realised that everyone else was still writing. She let out a sigh. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Miss Barton was sat at her desk looking at something with a small smile. Clearly she wasn’t expecting anyone to be finished yet. Jemma sat for a few more moments before hopping off her chair and making her way over to the desk. Miss Barton looked up and was unsurprised to see her. 

“I should have known it would be you.” She smiled, pulling Jemma’s letter closer towards her. 

Jemma blinked at her. 

“Did you enjoy your letter?” Miss Barton asked kindly. 

She nodded eagerly. 

“I loved it! When do you think we’ll hear back again?” Jemma asked excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

“The same time next week I should think. Miss MacIntosh assured me that they’ll be writing letters on Thursday’s should our letters get to them on time.” Miss Barton smiled, her eyes scanning over Jemma’s letter. 

Jemma swung on her feet as Miss Barton read. She didn’t really think it was necessary for her to read and check over  _ her  _ work, but she supposed she couldn’t make an exception for her. 

“What a lovely long letter Jemma! I’m sure Leo will love reading it.” Miss Barton beamed. 

“I hope so.” Jemma said quietly. 

Miss Barton pulled out an envelope.

“Why don’t you address the envelope and we can get it sent off?” 

Jemma nodded, before pulling the envelope to her, neatly printing out ‘Leo Fitz’ on the front. Miss Barton gave her a small nod after they had sealed the envelope up, and Jemma bounced back to her desk, eager for it to be next Monday already. She grabbed Fitz’s letter and read it over again with a smile. Jemma folded it up neatly and tucked it into her cardigan pocket and made her way over to the games cupboard, her hands easily finding the worn out chess set. She didn’t mind so much playing on her own now. She had, she hoped, a friend with her now. 

When the bell rang from the end of the day Jemma bounded out into the playground, a smile on her face, her eyes eagerly searching for the familiar figure. She found him almost immediately. 

“Daddy!” She squealed excitedly, jumping into his waiting arms. 

“Jem!” Arthur Simmons grinned, picking her up and propped her up on his hip. 

“Good day?” He asked, when Jemma pulled herself out of his shoulder to look at him. 

“Amazing!” Jemma exclaimed. 

She reached into her pocket and pulled out Fitz’s letter. 

“We got our first letters from Scotland today!” She beamed, waving the letter in his face. 

Arthur grinned. He’d heard all about the new project and Jemma’s penpal when Miss Barton had announced it last week. 

“Really?! And what’s your penpal like? Is he nice? Is he  _ really  _ as clever as my little Jem?” He said, tickling her under the ribs as he spoke.

Jemma let out a squeal of laughter.

“Yes! He’s amazing! His name is Leo and he wants to build rocket ships, and his favourite constellation is the Plough and he loves monkey’s and he lives in Glasgow!” Jemma exclaimed once she’d calmed down.

Arthur beamed at her. 

“He likes stargazing too?” 

Jemma nodded eagerly. 

“Yes! He got a book for his birthday!” Jemma said excitedly.

“Did you tell him all about Theta Serpentis?” He asked, sliding her back to the ground and taking her hand. 

“Of course I did Daddy!  _ He  _ wants to go to high school too!” Jemma cried. 

Arthur Simmons just shook his head. This was becoming an almost daily battle. 

“Jemma, we’ve talked about this. We promised we’d review things at the end of term.” He sighed, as they began to walk out of the playground. 

“But Daddy, I’m  _ bored _ !” Jemma moaned, tugging frustratedly on his hand.

“I know you are sweet pea. Just a couple more months, and we’ll see okay. You know Mummy and I just want what’s best for you. High school is a very big step.” He replied with a well practised air. 

“I knoooowww, but I’m ready!” Jemma whined. 

Arthur let out a long sigh. 

“I know. Soon Jemma, I promise. In the meantime…” He trailed off, giving her hand a light squeeze. 

“It’s supposed to be a clear night tonight? Want to see if we can find your new friend’s favourite constellation?” 

Jemma’s eyes lit up at the suggestion.

“Yes please!” 

She bounced on her feet and swung her daddy’s hand enthusiastically. She tucked her letter back into her pocket. When she got home she would find a safe place for it. Her hand remained closed around the precious letter as they walked home. It made her happy. He knew what it was like. What a good day it had been. 

Thursday could not come quickly enough for Fitz. He couldn’t wait to hear from her. The day dragged by, as it always does when you are eagerly anticipating something. The days normally went by slowly because Fitz knew just about everything Miss MacIntosh told them, but today felt especially tedious. By the time the last lesson of the day rolled around, Fitz’s margins were filled to the brim with drawings and doodles, equations from the book he’d found in the library. When Miss MacIntosh finally brought out the large wad of envelopes, he found himself wanting to run at her, but he held himself back, sitting right on the edge of his seat, just waiting for his name to be called. He tried not to run when, finally Miss MacIntosh read out his name. He didn’t need another excuse for everyone to make fun of him, but he found he didn’t care so much now. Fitz waited until he got back to his desk before opening his letter. He stared at the looping writing on the front that read: ‘Leo Fitz’, before slowly turning it over and carefully opening it up, and pulling the contents out. The smile on his face grew slowly bigger the more he read. She was  _ amazing.  _ She’d written  _ loads _ , but Fitz felt as if he could read forever. He never wanted the letter to end. Fitz read it three times before accepting the end for what it was, pulled his paper towards him, and began to write back.

_ 27/10/94 _

_ Dear Jemma,  _

_ Thank you for your letter. I’m so happy to hear that you love stargazing too. Theta Serpentis is a really good favourite constellation. Polaris is a really useful star too but I like Merak because it points towards Leo. The constellation Leo I mean. Mum calls it my constellation. I’m not really a fan of lions though. It is cool to have a constellation that has my name, or at least part of it. Dad says it doesn’t really count though.  _

_ To answer your question, yes, I do get bored a lot too. My classroom doesn’t have a chess set though, so normally I end up just drawing in my margins a lot. I draw everything. Monkeys, diagrams, formulas, equations. It passes the time. Chess with myself might be a bit more interesting than that sometimes. I read a book about it once at the library, and there’s so many different ways to play. You’re making me wish we had a chess set here now. All we have is puzzle sets, and I finished all of them about a week into term. No point doing them again.  _

_ I like to teach myself too. I taught myself about basic combustion engines when I was four, I got my head around jet engines last year and now I’m trying to find a book about engines on spacecraft, but that’s a bit harder to find in my library. Dad won’t let me fiddle with his car though. I’ve taken my bike apart and put it back together more times than I can count. How are you finding integrals? I quite like calculus, but geometry is my favourite!  _

_ I know what you mean when you say people look at you funny when you try to talk to them about this stuff. My classmates wouldn’t have a clue if I even asked them what an integral was. I’m glad you understand though.  _

Fitz leaned back and read what he had written with a smile. He’d never been able to talk to anyone about this stuff. Mum would smile and nod, but he knew she didn’t really understand, not properly at least, and dad wouldn’t want to know anything. But Jemma  _ knew,  _ she really properly knew what it was like. His eyes ran over her letter again, and suddenly it was as if everything he’d ever kept to himself came flooding into the forefront of his brain. And he could discuss them  _ all  _ with her and she would get it. Fitz beamed, and leaned over his letter again, his hand soon flying over the page. 

For the next two months, the pair’s favourite time of the week became the moment that their teachers would pull that familiar wad of letters out from their desks. It was Jemma who had asked if they could be friends properly. Fitz had agreed with enthusiasm. They talked about everything, or everything they were comfortable with Miss MacIntosh and Miss Barton seeing first. Fitz didn’t mention his father a lot, but Jemma didn’t like him all the same. Each found a comfort in the mere fact that here was someone who understood what it was like to be different, to be bored, to want the same things. They encouraged each other in their studies, each suggesting new things for the other to look up or research. They began planning nights to stargaze, when they knew it would be clear, and it was a comfort to them both to know that somewhere, the other was looking at the same stars in the sky.

The weather grew colder, the nights longer, and soon the end of term was nearly upon them. Christmas decorations began to festoon each respective classroom, and to the surprise of both of them, they found they were dreading the end of term, dreading the end of the letter writing project. Jemma came home from school one afternoon, two weeks before the end of term, her latest letter from Fitz clutched in her gloved hand. It was Mummy’s day for pick up and she’d promised exciting news when they got home, but Jemma wasn’t much up for it. She was about to lose the one real friend she’d ever had. 

“What’s wrong sweet pea? You’ve been awfully quiet.” Helen Simmons asked as she pushed open the garden gate.

Jemma let out an impressively long sigh for a seven year old.

“Our letter writing project finishes next week. This is the second last letter I’ll  _ ever  _ get from Fitz. He’s my only real friend and I don’t want to lose him.” Jemma said sadly, not looking up at her mother. 

Tears began to sting at the edges of her eyes and they rolled down her face and she began to sob, her hand clutching tightly at Fitz’s letter. 

“Oh sweetheart.” Helen Simmons sighed, crouching down and pulling her daughter into a hug. 

Jemma felt only slightly better, as she sobbed into her mothers shoulder. Her mother rubbed her hand up and down her back in that way that made everything seem like it was going to be okay, but she still felt miserable. 

“How about I have a little chat with Miss Barton okay? See if we can’t keep the pair of you in touch?” Helen soothed softly into Jemma’s ear. 

“R-really?” Jemma sniffled, pulling her head out of her shoulder. 

“I promise. You’ve been so happy these past few months you’ve been writing to Leo and I dare say you’ve made him very happy too. You’re a very special little girl and he sounds like a very special little boy. It would be a shame for you both to lose that connection now.” Helen said gently.

Jemma flung herself back around her mother, her tears forgotten. 

“Thank you Mummy.” She whispered into her neck. 

“Now come on, lets get inside and out of the cold. As I said when I picked you up, Daddy and I have some very good news for you.” Helen said, offering Jemma her hand again.

Jemma took it, but did not think that any news could be as good as potentially not losing Fitz. Not by a long shot. Five minutes later, Jemma found herself on the big plush couch in the living room, her parents both beaming down at her. 

“Now, last week we went up to the high school with Miss Barton and your headteacher and we had a big long conversation with the headteacher, Mr Watson.” Arthur Simmons started. 

Jemma shifted excitedly in her seat. She could guess where this was going.

“And we decided that after Christmas and the New Year, that you would be ready to go and join them.” Arthur finished.

“Really?!” Jemma squealed excitedly. 

“Really Jem.” Helen smiled.

Jemma bounded off the sofa and flung herself at the pair of them. 

“We guessed you’d be happy.” Arthur laughed. 

High school! Proper high school! Jemma could hardly believe it. She could not wait to tell Fitz!

“They want us to go up next week for a chat after school with you if that’s alright Jem, and for you to take some tests, just so they can figure out what level you’re at, but from what we told him, Mr Watson thinks you might be ready to sit your GCSEs in August.” Helen explained. 

Jemma seemed to buzz with excitement. Finally,  _ finally,  _ she might not be bored anymore. Finally, she might get some answers to the millions of questions that spun around her head every moment of every day. 

“Thank you!!” She squealed, pulling her parents closer. 

She was getting to keep her friend and she was getting to do proper school work. It felt like far too much good news for one day to contain. 

A few days later, Fitz was in a slump similar to that that Jemma had been in a few days prior. He held her second to last letter in his hand. It was as cheery as ever, if there was one thing that Fitz had learned about Jemma is that she was a very happy person. It seemed to leak out of the page and infect him too. Usually her letters made him grin from ear to ear, but not today. It felt melancholic. He was happy for his letter, but sad to be losing her. He didn’t want to lose her. He’d tried not to sound sad in his reply, but he wondered if perhaps Jemma would be able to tell. Jemma seemed to understand everything he told her, but sometimes he wondered if he was projecting. Dad had said it was ridiculous to think that someone you’d never even met could read your mind, or even know how you were feeling, that she was probably some stuck up little privately educated English girl who would never have to work for anything in her life. Fitz had stopped mentioning Jemma and her letters to him after that. He and mum still talked about her though. He could talk to mum about anything. As Fitz packed up his things for the end of the day, he heard Miss MacIntosh calling his name. 

“Leo! Could I have a word with you before you go home?” She smiled at him. 

In spite of her smile, Fitz’s stomach dropped. Getting called to speak to the teacher after school was never a good thing. He pulled his bag over his shoulder and trudged over to her desk, his hand closed around Jemma’s latest letter in his pocket, which comforted him slightly. 

“First of all, I have a letter for your parents. It is a  _ very  _ important letter so you must make sure to give it to them, okay? Your mum knows what it’s about.” She said carefully, handing him an envelope.

Fitz took it from her, and noted the printed label on the front, baring his parents' names. Must be something important. He couldn’t be in trouble, unless Miss MacIntosh had told the head teacher about his constant doodling. That would be really unfair, Fitz thought, as he stuffed the letter into his bag. He always finished his work first. Not that it ever took him very long. 

“Second of all, I received a phone call a few days ago from Miss Barton, Jemma’s teacher.” Miss MacIntosh continued. 

Fitz’s head sprung up at the sound of Jemma’s name. 

“She had a very interesting conversation with Jemma’s parents the other day. They told her that Jemma was quite upset at the idea of not being able to talk to you anymore, and I can guess from how you’ve been the last week or so, you’re not very happy about that either.”

  
  


Fitz shook his head. He normally stayed fairly quiet in class, just getting on with the work, but he must have been particularly quiet for even Miss MacIntosh to notice he wasn’t happy. 

“Well, we think we’ve come up with a solution. You can keep sending each other letters. Jemma, in her next letter, will send you her address and in her reply, you can send her yours. That is if you would like to?” 

“Yes, of course I would!” 

The words had barely left Miss MacIntosh’s mouth before Fitz had blurted back his reply. Miss MacIntosh grinned. 

“I thought you’d say that. One of the things in there is for your parents to let them know. I know you’ve told them about Jemma, and your mum and I spoke about it on the phone yesterday.” 

Fitz stared at her. His mum had known?! All this time and she hadn’t told him?! She must have a reason. They didn’t keep secrets, him and mum, they told each other everything. The shock flooded away and was replaced with pure and utter joy. He wasn’t going to lose Jemma after all. He felt like he could cry. But no he couldn’t. It was weak to cry. That’s what dad said. But he was happy. So incredibly and amazingly happy. 

“Thank you Miss MacIntosh.” Fitz breathed. 

“You’re very welcome Leo. Now go on. Don’t make your mum worry about you being late home.” 

Fitz gave her one last nod before swinging his school bag over his shoulder and bolting from the room. He’d never run home so quickly in his life. He’d hardly put his hand on the front door handle before he was pulling the letter out of his bag and shouting. 

“Mum! Muuuuuuummm!!!” He yelled into the empty abyss of the hallway. 

Lorna Fitz’s head appeared almost immediately around the kitchen doorway, concern dashed across her face 

“What? What is it Leo honey?” She asked frantically, running towards him, her eyes scanning quickly over him for any kind of injury. 

Fitz waved the letter that Miss MacIntosh had given him at her. 

“M-m-miss MacIntosh said to give you this!” He panted breathlessly, thrusting the letter at her. 

“S-she also said t-that I can keep writing to Jemma, b-but I had to ask you if it was okay t-to give h-her our address so she c-can keep writing too.” He heaved out. 

Lorna took the letter from him gently and smiled. His whole body was rising and falling with his breath. 

“Of course you can darlin’! It doesn’t take a genius to see how happy you’ve been these last few months.” Lorna exclaimed softly. 

Fitz felt the smile spread across his face, before he threw himself into his mothers arms. 

“Thanks mum.” He mumbled into her shoulder. 

He felt her smile on his own shoulder. 

“Of course Leo. Of course.” 

Fitz eventually let her go and watched as she sat back on her haunches and ripped open the letter that he had handed her. Lorna’s eyes flew over the contents and Fitz watched them get wider and wider the further she went down. Fitz was more convinced than ever that he was in very deep trouble. 

“Mum?” He asked tentatively. 

She looked up at him and for the first time, he noticed that her eyes were filled with tears. 

“Oh Leo.” She breathed. 

“Oh my amazing, clever wee boy.” 

Lorna took his small hand into her own and gave it a squeeze. 

“That was a letter from your headteacher. She’s had a wee conversation with Mr Harris up at the High School and they think that if you work really hard, you might be able to do your Standard Grades in the spring.” 

Fitz’s eyes went wide. 

“D-does that mean I get to go to high school?” He stammered out. 

Lorna gave him a small smile. 

“Yes darlin’, yes it does. They want us to go up to the school just before the end of term so we can have a wee look round and to see if you want to go.” 

A million thoughts seemed to run through Fitz’s head. He couldn’t wait to tell Jemma. But then his stomach seemed to sink. 

“Will dad have to come?” He asked quietly. 

Something flashed across Lorna’s face, but Fitz couldn’t quite make out what it was. 

“Maybe. We’ll have to tell him, when he comes home. I can do that if you like sweetheart. But he might have to work. Is that okay?” She asked tentatively. 

Fitz considered her. He wondered if there was any way he could go without telling him at all. Fitz just knew he wouldn’t like it. He could already hear the shouts. But mum knew what she was doing. Mum would know how to handle it. He gave a small nod. 

“I’m so  _ so  _ proud of you Leo. I hope you know that.” Lorna whispered fiercely, pressing a kiss to his cheek before pulling him into her arms again. 

Fitz felt that warm flood of warmth that only came with a hug from his mum. He breathed her in and for that single, solitary moment, everything was good. Everything was perfect. 

“Mum?” Fitz mumbled, pulling back to look at her. 

“Yes darlin’?” Lorna asked, bringing a hand up to wipe at her eyes. 

He paused for a moment. 

“Do you think that Jemma would like it if I made her a Christmas card?” He asked tentatively. 

Lorna gave a watery chuckle. 

“Yes Leo dear. I think she would like that very much.” 

Fitz grinned and allowed her to pull him back into her arms, already mentally planning what he was going to put on her card. Something christmassy for sure, but he wanted to include three very special things too. The Plough, Leo and Serpens. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will see you next Saturday for the next chapter!
> 
> Skye :)
> 
> (and yes the title is pulled from seven by Taylor Swift. It felt very appropriate given the circumstances)
> 
> (also also, pls enjoy my headcanon that Miss MacIntosh and Miss Barton are actually girlfriends in a long distance relationship and they came up with this project specifically bc they thought FitzSimmons should meet after a long phone conversation about the little genius kids in each of their classes)


	2. 1997 (Ten Years Old)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been three years since Fitz and Jemma started writing each other letters, each finding solace in each others words and friendship, but all of that is about to be tested...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello and welcome to another chapter! We've jumped forward in time a wee bit, so hopefully the dynamic you'll see between the still pretty young FitzSimmons is much much closer than the last chapter. I honestly cannot tell you how much fun I had writing this story honestly. I cannot thank Racquel enough for that absolutely GLORIOUS prompt. I should say, before you go diving in that the domestic abuse themes are at their peak in this chapter (thank u Alistair for that) so please consider that before you go in head first. Anyway, I shall stop my usual ramblings and let you get to the reading!

Fitz was late. He already stood out like a sore thumb on campus, and he could already feel the eyes on him, hear the sniggers as he bolted as fast as he could to his next class. They’d wanted to set him up with a chaperone, someone older than him, in the same classes, but he’d declined. He could find his way around fine. He did not need a babysitter. He probably knew more than them anyway. This was his last class of the day, and then mum would be here to come and pick him up. He squirmed internally at the thought. He’d rather she just left him to the library for the rest of the evening. But she was still protective of him and that, he could kind of understand. He just wished he didn’t have to go  _ home. _ Dad would be home. And he’d been foul ever since he’d been laid off. But he didn’t need to think about that right now. Fitz liked his classes. For the first time in his life he felt as if he was actually being challenged, even if it wasn’t very much, nor for very long. It seemed as he got older however, the age gap between himself and his classmates just seemed to get larger. At ten years old, he most definitely stuck out in the lecture theatres filled with twenty one year olds, some excitedly anticipating their last year of undergrad, others more weary from the four years of hard work they’d just undertaken. He still had Jemma though. For the past three years they sent each other a letter every single week. They’d even spoken on the phone a couple of times, but Fitz was careful only to do this when his dad was out. It cost too much money, he said. Nevertheless he had a large box under his bed of letters from Jemma that his dad knew nothing about. Letters and Christmas cards, birthday cards too. Jemma had even sent him a present for his birthday this year, which she didn’t have to do. He wished he could do the same. He sent drawings of things he knew she’d like, a school of fish, her favourite constellation, and she said she loved them. Fitz knew he would just have to take her word for it. 

He sat at the back of the lecture theatre, as he always did. People were less likely to stare at him if they couldn’t see him. Jemma said she always sat at the front of her classes. Of course she did, Fitz thought, as he pulled out his notebook. Jemma was like that, he’d learned. She didn’t seem to mind the stares so much. The lecture passed by easily. Fitz had done beyond the required reading already, and thought that he could probably give the lecture himself, though the very thought of standing up in front of everyone made him feel more than slightly ill. As soon as the lecture was finished Fitz bolted out the door as soon as he could. He knew no one would want to hang around and chat with the funny little ten year old that lurked in the back all the time. Mum was waiting outside for him in the car, just at the usual place. Fitz couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at the sight of her. 

“Hello darlin’. Good day?” Lorna Fitz asked with a grin as he flopped himself into the passenger seat. 

Fitz gave a shrug. 

“Alright. Same as usual. Knew most of what the lecturer was on about already.” He grumbled as he shoved his bag down at his feet. 

Lorna let out a short laugh. 

“Of course you did. Anyway, I think I have something that will cheer you up.” She grinned, pulling an envelope from her jacket pocket. 

Fitz recognised the neat handwriting in an instant, and he had to stop himself from grabbing it out of his mum’s hand. He took it eagerly, ripping the envelope with vigour, pulling the contents out furiously. Almost distantly, Fitz heard his mum chuckling as she started the engine. His eyes fell on Jemma’s familiar writing and the rest of the world seemed to dissolve around him.

_ 1/11/97 _

_ Dear Fitz _

_ Thank you so much for your last letter. Your description of your lecturer's struggle with the tape player made me laugh so much. And to think the man has a doctorate in electrical engineering! I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying your classes this semester, I can guess that you’re still finding it too easy. I’m the same really, but maybe our masters years next year might be a bit more challenging?  _

_ Have you started on your dissertation project yet? I had a conversation with my advisor yesterday and she just kind of looked at me and nodded. I can’t figure out if that was a good thing or not. Maybe I was talking too fast. You know from our phone conversations that I can get a little overexcited sometimes. That reminds me, can you phone me when you get this letter? Hopefully your phone is working again now. There’s part of my project I want to run by you. I need an engineering brain and I don’t want to ask anyone here. I know I don’t really care what people think about my being here, but they still look at me like an alien if I ask them questions. It’s like they don’t know how to treat me. Some of them still treat me like a child and I hate it. I wish they would just treat me like an equal. I know you know how that feels. I heard a girl in one of my anatomy lectures calling me ‘that freaky little genius girl’ the other day. I don’t think she knows that I heard her, but still. Things like that make me sososososo glad that I have you. You know what it’s like. And I don’t expect them to want to be friends with me, but really, one of the boys asked me if I liked ‘My Little Pony’ the other day, and he was being completely and utterly serious!  _

_ My tutor keeps talking to me about Cambridge, but Mummy still says no. I know she thinks it’s too far to go on my own but I would love to go so much. They said they’d make special arrangements for me if I wanted. You’re lucky you live so close to such good universities. Daddy has talked about moving down there so I can attend, but don’t you think that’s too much? Mummy and Daddy would both have to leave their jobs and I like our house, but Daddy says me getting my education and the proper help that I need is more important. What do you think? Would it be selfish of me to agree? It would be really scary going without them, but I want to go so badly. If you have any other solutions I’d love to hear them. I think sometimes putting our heads together makes us twice as smart. Wouldn’t it be good to work on a project together someday? We’d blow them all away I think Fitz. _

_ Anyway, it’s supposed to be a clear night on the tenth, do you want to stargaze then? I feel like it’s been ages since we did that. Let me know in your next letter or when you phone me, if we remember. I know we’re prone to tangents.  _

_ Talk to you soon! _

_ Love  _

_ Jemma.  _

Fitz read it twice, like he always did, with a grin on his face from ear to ear. 

“What’d Jemma saying to it today then?” Lorna asked, noticing the look on his face.

“Her tutor still wants her to go down to Cambridge.” He mumbled, his eyes still focused somewhat on the letter. 

Lorna nodded. It wasn’t the first time it had come up. 

“Oh and she wants me to phone tonight? Can I when we get home?” Fitz asked eagerly. 

He watched as his mum seemed to stiffen slightly at his words. Fitz knew well enough what that meant by now. 

“Tomorrow sweetheart. He’s meeting, friends, tomorrow. I don’t want you going through a repeat of last time. Either of you.” 

The last time Fitz had called Jemma, his Dad had walked in halfway through their conversation and had started yelling about him wasting his money on useless, inane conversations. Fitz had hung up quickly, as soon as he’d heard the doorknob rattling. Jemma didn’t hear anything, he was certain, otherwise she’d have mentioned it in her letter. He knew Jemma would be confused, but he’d told her in his next letter that the line had cut out and that it wasn’t working at all now. A lie, but it was better than the truth. Fitz couldn’t really bring himself to tell Jemma what his dad was really like. Putting it in writing made it seem far too real. All he could hope was that she believed him. 

Fitz put himself at ease by writing a reply to Jemma as soon as he got home. Writing to her always made him feel better. It felt safe. Mum bought him his own book of stamps now so he could address and send letters off whenever he wanted. There was a letterbox just at the end of the street so it was easy enough for Fitz to wander down there. His eyes flit over Jemma’s latest letter again, reminding himself of the finer details. He sucked the end of his pen into his mouth, teeth toying with the little plastic bit at the end, before opening his well worn notebook, and beginning to write. 

_ 5/11/97 _

_ Dear Jemma _

_ Thanks for your letter. I’m actually writing this the day I got it, but I can’t phone tonight. The guy is coming to fix the phone in the morning, so hopefully I’ll talk to you tomorrow afternoon. But we’ll have talked on the phone before then, so really there’s not much point in me telling you that. Uni is still kind of boring. I hope you’re right when you say that our masters year will be a bit more challenging. It’s almost as bad as being stuck back in primary school again, and that was awful. I was bored CONSTANTLY. At least now they’re not still trying to teach me my ABC’s, which somedays it feels like they might as well be. _

_ I have a meeting with my dissertation project advisor on Friday, which feels an age away. He doesn’t know how to treat me either. He switches back and forth from treating me like a peer, to kid gloves so much it’s hard to keep up sometimes. And don’t worry, I get the snickering behind hands too. They call me “The Child Genius” but, not in a nice way. I thought from the telly programs that all that stuff was supposed to stop after high school, but clearly not.  _

_ As for Cambridge, you know I think you should go. You deserve it Jemma, you’re clearly good enough that your tutor has mentioned it this many times. I do get it though, the feeling guilty. I feel it every time my mum has to take a shorter shift than she normally might so she can come pick me up after my classes. She says she doesn’t mind, but I do. I tell her I can just get the bus, but she says she won’t be letting me go on the bus on my own until I’m at least thirteen. Which seems silly to me. I can all but build a jet engine with my bare hands, but I can’t get the bus on my own from the centre of Glasgow for all but fifteen minutes. Silly really. Anyway, I think you’d like Cambridge, but really it’s your choice. You might not feel guilty when you get there? You were never going to stay in Sheffield anyway, not with your brain. You were always going to end up somewhere like that. But yeah, I do understand the guilty thing. I know it isn’t easy, and it’s not an easy choice, and I don’t know what the right thing is. Do what my mum says when I’m being indecisive: go with your gut. And if that doesn’t work make up some of your pro and cons lists, that is, if you haven’t already got one hanging on your wall. You’ll figure it out. Your parents sound like they’re being really good about it, which is nice.  _

_ The tenth sounds perfect for stargazing! I’m still so jealous of your telescope. It’s at the very very top of my Christmas list this year. Maybe one day when we finally meet I can come down and have a shot of yours?  _

_ Don’t worry about Cambridge, it’ll work out.  _

_ Talk to you soon. _

_ Fitz.  _

His eyes scanned over the letter, checking for any mistakes, thinking of anything to add in. When he was satisfied, he checked his small wrist watch. Almost five o’clock. Dad would be home soon. He didn’t like it if Fitz was out when he came home. Better not risk it. He’d post the letter first thing tomorrow, before mum took him into the city for his early class. Fitz made out the envelope anyway, wincing at the taste of the bitter glue on the envelope and stamp before shoving it under his pillow. It would be safe there. 

Fitz was antsy for the next twenty-four hours. He really looked forward to when he could actually talk to Jemma. Their letters back and forth meant the world to him, but there was just something extra special about hearing her voice. The day dragged, as it always did when he was anticipating something eagerly. Thankfully he was only in a half day at uni today, but it still pulled by achingly slow and he shook his legs nervously the entire car journey home. He didn’t even stop to take off his jacket, running for the phone in the hall, before slamming Jemma’s number in. Fitz knew she was on her day off today, but if he knew her at all, she’d still be working on  _ something _ . Jemma Simmons wasn’t the type to take a day off, not for anything. She’d probably work through Christmas Day even, if her parents let her, which thankfully, they did not. He shoved the phone under his ear, jamming it between his shoulder and his head and began to try and unzip his jacket rather haphazardly as the dial tone rang in his ear. He was just struggling getting the zip disconnected from the bit when a voice sounded in his ear. 

“Hello?” The soft English voice chimed.

Fitz scrambled with the phone, his hands flying from his zip to hold the phone up to his ear. 

“Hello Mrs Simmons! It’s Fitz, Leo. I-is Jemma there?” He blurted. 

A gentle laugh came from the receiver. 

“Yes of course sweetheart. I’ll just go and get her. Two moments!” Mrs Simmons said. 

Fitz could hear the smile in her voice and it was nice. Like talking to his own mum, he thought. He heard a small clunking noise, and the far off shout of “Jemma, Leo’s on the phone for you!”, before it all went quiet. Fitz shoved the receiver between his head and shoulder again, before finally winning the battle he’d been having with the zip on his jacket, haphazardly chucking it over the bannister behind him. He could just make out the rumble of footsteps in his ear, before everything clattered again and the best sound in the world reverberated delightfully in his ear. 

“Fitz! I’m so glad you called. You got my letter?” Jemma asked excitedly. 

“Yeah, yeah I did! I-uh actually got it yesterday, but uh, the phone still wasn’t working. The guy came this morning and it’s all good now. I uh-I sent a reply this morning, so you’ll probably get that soon. You-you mentioned something about your dissertation project? Should I get my pen and paper?” Fitz rambled as he pulled at the laces on his shoes before kicking them unceremoniously off of his feet. 

“Yes, you better. It’s only a half formed idea really, but I want your opinion on it.” Jemma said rather seriously. 

Fitz smiled slightly. He knew what she could be like well enough by now when it came to her work. He could be the same sometimes, but he openly admitted that he was far less organised that she was. Jemma seemed to actually enjoy homework, which Fitz would admit was a step too far. It wasn’t like his homework was mind numbingly difficult or anything but it took away precious time that he would rather be using to work on his own projects or designs. Fitz pulled up his bag, which he had ditched carelessly by his feet, digging around for his spare notebook, his fingers searching for a pen which would undoubtedly be rolling around somewhere at the bottom of his bag. He gave Jemma the go ahead once he’d situated himself comfortably on the floor of the hallway, and she went into a long explanation about her dissertation project. They’d done this before, bouncing ideas back and forth, helping clarify or add to the others ideas or projects. Jemma was a good sounding board, Fitz thought, and she seemed to think he was a good one too. He loved working with her like this, even though the location wasn’t exactly ideal. His mum jumped over him several times on her way to and from the kitchen, smiling and shaking her head. They’d been chatting for about half an hour when a loud bang startled Fitz so much he jumped, his pen clattering out of his hand. His head whipped around to the source of the noise. The front door lay open, his father standing ominously in the doorway, leering down at him. 

“And what in the HELL are you doing boy?!” His father’s voice boomed. 

Fitz scrambled with the phone in his hand, but he seemed incapable of doing anything. He sputtered something out but he knew that it was entirely unintelligible. 

“Answer me when I’m talking to you Leopold! You useless boy!” 

Alistair Fitz’s voice seemed to reverberate off of the walls. Fitz continued to stutter. It was as if he had lost any and all capability he’d ever had to speak. 

“LEOPOLD! ANSWER ME!! THEY TELL ME YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE INTELLIGENT BUT I’VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING BUT THE STUPID IDIOTIC BOY IN FRONT OF ME. WELL? SPIT IT OUT BOY!” 

Somehow, Fitz seemed to regain the motor function in his hands, and slammed the phone down. He’d explain to Jemma later. The phone broke again, or the line cut out or something. He could only hope that she hadn’t heard anything. He really really really hoped she hadn’t. The sound of the front door slamming hard enough to shake the walls brought him back to his unfortunate reality. 

Jemma was concerned. It had been three days since her abruptly ended conversation with Fitz and she still hadn’t heard anything from him. Only the letter he’d sent before he’d called. She’d read it over and over again, trying to find an explanation, a clue of some kind as to what had happened, but she, frustratingly, came up short. He hadn’t even attempted a quick phone call or left a voicemail. The shouts in the background had scared her. She had only been able to pick up the odd word through the roars, “useless”, “stupid” and “Leopold”. If that was how he was used to hearing his full name, no wonder Fitz didn’t like it. The sound of the phone violently slamming down, and the continuous dull dial tone seemed to ring in her ears. Mummy and Daddy were concerned too. They’d wanted to call the police, but what was the point? The police in Sheffield couldn’t do anything about something happening in Glasgow. But Mummy had assured her that if she hadn’t heard anything from him by the end of the day today that they would do something. Jemma hadn’t slept well the last few nights for worrying about him. All she could hope, over and over and over again, was that he was okay. He had to be. Every time the phone rang she jumped up anxiously, hoping that it was him, but her parents would just shake their heads sadly and continue chatting with whoever it was on the other end of the phone. By the time the phone rang at five o’clock that evening, Jemma didn’t move. She knew it wouldn’t be him. She just lay on her back on the couch and stared at the ceiling, listening to the sound of her mum’s dull footsteps as she headed towards the incessant ringing. Jemma closed her eyes and let out a long, deep breath, willing the universe to give her some kind of sign that he was okay. Something. Anything. 

“Jemma!!” Her mum’s voice sounded frantically from the hallway. 

Jemma sat bolt upright, not even daring to hope. 

“Jemma, it’s Leo!” Her mum called again. 

She was moving before her mum had finished the second syllable of his name. She ran into the hallway and grabbed at the receiver in her mum’s hand. 

“Fitz?!” She asked frantically down the phone. 

“Y-yeah. Hi Jemma.” 

The familiar sound of his voice made her want to cry, his brogue thick, like he had been crying or had a bad head cold. 

“Oh thank goodness! I’ve been so worried. It’s so good to hear your voice again. Is everything okay? Are  _ you okay?  _ What happened the other day? You gave me such a fright! Please tell me you’re okay!” She reeled off, barely taking breath between her sentences. 

“I’m okay Jemma. Really. I promise.” Fitz said quietly. 

Jemma let out a deep sigh of relief that she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. Her eyes found her mum’s who had been looking at her with an increasingly worried expression and gave a small nod. Helen Simmons visibly relaxed, Jemma watching as her whole body sagged with relief. 

“What happened Fitz? I’ve been so worried!” 

Jemma heard a long sigh from the other end of the phone. He didn’t want to tell her. 

“It-it was my dad. He gets angry like that when mum and I do things wrong. Me phoning you, wasting money we don’t have on a phone call, that made him angry. You heard the rest.” 

The tone of his voice broke Jemma’s heart. He sounded utterly defeated. 

“Oh Fitz.” she breathed. 

“A-are you okay? Are you safe? Is it even okay for you to be calling me?” She asked anxiously. 

“He’s gone Jemma. Usually he only goes for the night if he does that, but he said that it was the final straw. We think he’s gone for good this time. Mum says we’re not staying here anyway. We’ll go to my grans until we find a place. I think this was the final straw for her too.” He sighed. 

Jemma felt her heart shatter this time. All she wanted in the world was to give him a hug, to pull him through the phone line and let him know she was always going to be here for him. 

  
  


“Oh Fitz.” 

It was the only thing she could think to say. 

“I’m okay though.” He repeated. 

Jemma wondered if that was for his sake more than hers. 

“It’s good really. That he’s gone. We don’t have to be scared anymore.” He continued.

Jemma felt a tear roll down her cheek. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She breathed. 

She could almost hear him shrug. 

“Didn’t want to worry you for no reason.” He mumbled.

“Oh Fitz!” She exclaimed.

“Your Dad being an utter horror is a perfectly good reason!” 

She heard him sigh down the phone. 

“I’m sorry.”

Her heart seemed to wrench. 

“No, Fitz.  _ I’m _ sorry. Everything’s been perfectly horrid with you for god knows how long and I’ve just continued on and not noticed anything and that was so wrong of me and…” 

“Jemma no.” Fitz said firmly, cutting her off. 

“It-it’s been happening for long before you. And I didn’t know how to tell you.”

He sounded ashamed, and Jemma couldn’t stand it. Her voice seemed to catch in her throat. For the first time, perhaps in her whole life, Jemma wasn’t sure what to say. 

“But I’m fine. We’re fine. Mum and I, we get on better the two of us anyway. It’s for the best, really. I-I’ll send you my new address, my granny’s address that is, with my next letter.” 

Jemma nodded, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. Fitz seemed to understand anyway. 

“I’m sorry for giving you a fright Jemma. I didn’t mean to. That was really the last thing I wanted. Part of me, part of me hoped you hadn’t heard anything, that I’d gotten the phone down in time. But clearly not. I just, I just wanted to make sure it was safe, before phoning again.” Fitz explained, his voice heartbreakingly desolate.

“It’s okay Fitz. I’m just glad to know you’re okay. Thank you so much for phoning. You can phone anytime. I love talking to you, you know. You’re the only one who gets it all. You’re my friend Fitz, and I care about you. My only friend really. I’m just happy you and your mum are okay.” 

It seemed all to come rushing out at once. It was everything that had been pent up inside of her for the past three days spilling out of her mouth all at once. She heard a muffled voice in the background of Fitz’s line, and something from him that sounded like “Just be a minute.” 

“That was Mum. I have to go, tea’s ready.” Fitz explained quickly. 

“O-okay.” Jemma stuttered. 

There was a silence where neither of them quite knew what to say. 

“P-please let me know your new address, just as soon as you know it. I look forward to your letters so much.” Jemma said softly. 

She could almost hear him give a small smile. 

“I will. I should go.” He said quietly. 

“Okay. Thanks so much for calling Fitz. Talk soon?” 

“Absolutely. I have a letter waiting for you.” 

Jemma smiled. 

“I can’t wait. Bye Fitz.” 

“Bye Jemma.” 

The clunk of the receiver being put down and the long steady dial tone almost made her want to wince. Jemma let out a long deep breath and turned to where she knew her mother had been anxiously standing the whole time she’d been on the phone. As soon as she looked at her, Jemma could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. 

“Oh Jemma.” Her mother breathed, darting forward to gather her up in her arms. 

As she sobbed into her mothers shoulder, all she could think of was Fitz. How it wasn’t fair that he’d been dealing with that all on his own. How unfair it was that it had happened in the first place. How desperately sad she was that he’d had to suffer that for at the very least, the past three years, maybe longer from his implication. She was so desperately sad for him, and there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t even give him a hug. Jemma was so incredibly grateful to have him, but sometimes she wished that Fitz could just live next door. The distance between Glasgow and Sheffield felt like a million miles sometimes, and never more than in that very moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sososososossosososoSO much for reading and I will see you again next week! 
> 
> Skye :)


	3. 2003 (Sixteen Years Old)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz has just received the oddest phone-call. Naturally he turns to Jemma for advice, but what will he do, when she has news of her own?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again lovelies! Another week another chapter! She’s posted two fics in the same week, who is she? Another little time jump this week, six years instead of three this time. They’re sixteen years old, you all know what’s gonna happen. I shan’t faff about this week, but instead will let you get to the reading!

_ 12/05/2003 _

  
  


_ Dear Jemma _

_ I got the oddest phone call today. I’m not even sure I can tell you about it, never mind write about it, which as I write sounds really mean that I’ve even mentioned it. Mum says we can’t afford to make any extra phone calls out this week, so this is the only way I can speak to you right now, unless you call me, which I hope you do soon! Maybe I can give you a phone in a few days, and tell you properly. I’ll have to check if I CAN do that. I’m really nervous Jemma and it’s actually really frustrating that I can’t even write it down. I mean I tell you everything. Just please give me a phone as soon as you get this. I’m properly bursting. I need to talk to someone who’ll understand and you understand everything. It’s a big decision and I just know you’ll make everything clearer.  _

_ I hope you’re getting on with your dissertation okay. I know you said that final chapter was giving you a problem. And I mean, you did CHOOSE to do a second PhD, but as always, if you need a sounding board I’m always here. Hopefully as soon as I’m finished my dissertation, I can finally file that patent. If anything, it might mean I can get my own mobile finally.  _

_ I actually came up with an idea that we could maybe work on together. I’d need your input for a biochem element in some drones, but I’ll explain it more and probably better on the phone.  _

_ Please call me as soon as you get this. I really just need to hear what you think about this potentially Big Scary Thing.  _

_ Yours, _

_ Fitz.  _

_ p.s I should probably mention that it’s a good thing. I know what you’re like. Don’t worry. Just call me!  _

Fitz threw his pen down and scrabbled around for an envelope. He’d have to run at this rate if he wanted this sent off today. Five minutes later he was running down the stairs, because the stupid lift wasn’t working again. He’d told the building manager that he could look at it and it would be working better than ever, but as happened a lot, the building manager didn’t trust a fifteen year old. Fitz thought he could probably wave his PhD in his face and he still wouldn’t believe him. He jogged to the post box in the next street, just catching the postie in time. He could only hope that Jemma saw the first class stamp, which he NEVER put on unless it was really urgent, which this was. Fitz wandered slowly back to the block of flats which had been home for him and mum now for the past five years, a million thoughts running through his head. Firstly, why him? They could have chosen anyone. Why him? Jemma told him he was special, that he was good and intelligent, and so did his mum, but they were his best friend and his mum, they were biased. Maybe, just maybe, they’d been right this whole time. It was a thought that he allowed himself to think for only a fraction of a second before banishing it from his mind again as he trudged up the cold concrete steps back up to the flat, the sound echoing loudly around him. Back in his room, Fitz pulled the worksheet he’d been working from before the phone rang, towards him and tried to concentrate on it again, but it was no use. Sometimes, he didn’t know why he’d started this masters program. He already had his PhD from Glasgow, specialising in electrical engineering, but when Strathclyde had come knocking with an offer to do aeronautical engineering, fully funded, he’d struggled to find a reason to say no. He did like to keep busy sometimes. But today his heart wasn’t in it. Mum would be at work until late, he couldn’t even tell her yet. He shoved the worksheet away from him, unable to concentrate anymore. Balling his fists into his eyes until he could see colours behind his eyelids, Fitz let out a long sigh. He was only a kid really. He resolved to get up and make a cup of tea. Tea solved everything, or at least, damn near everything. 

  
  


Jemma had just had the oddest phone call. The information seemed to buzz around her head at a million miles an hour. She’d squealed loudly at her parents when she’d come off the phone, but now she was coming down from the immediate high, she couldn’t quite believe it. She had so many questions and this,  _ this,  _ could help her get the answers she needed. She’d barely even sat down when a single thought popped into her head. Fitz. Fitz. She should call Fitz. The thought had barely registered in her mind when it was broken by her mum calling her. 

“Jemma sweetheart, the post is here! There’s one for you!” 

Jemma got up in a bit of a daze, her brain still reeling. Her mum handed her the letter and the first thing her eyes fell on was the first class stamp in the top left hand corner. Fitz never sent his letters first class. Never. Either something really good, or really bad had happened. Jemma didn’t want to wait to find out. She tore the letter open rather furiously and scanned over Fitz’s familiar scrawl. She went very hot and very cold in quick succession. No. No way. He couldn’t mean… It couldn’t be the same thing. Could it? Absolutely no way it could be. But if there was a small chance it might… She had to know. Letter still clutched in her hand, Jemma bolted for the phone in the hall. She had the receiver up to her ear before she realised she should check that Fitz would actually be at home. Shaking back her sleeve quickly, she glanced down at her watch. He had a class in an hour and a half. He wouldn’t have left yet. Satisfied, Jemma punched in Fitz’s number without even thinking, bouncing anxiously on her heels as the all too familiar dial tone sounded in her ear. Thankfully, she wasn’t kept waiting long. 

“Hello?” 

“Fitz?!” Jemma shouted anxiously down the phone. 

She could almost hear him smile, a grin spreading across her own face at the sound of the relieved sigh he let out. 

“Oh thank god. I did hope my letter would only take one day, but you never know what the good old Royal Mail is gonna be like.” Fitz grumbled

“Oh stop being grumpy and tell me your news! I have news too but I want to hear yours first!” Jemma rambled. 

“Wait, what?! What’s your news?” Fitz asked, surprised. 

“Never mind, I’ll tell you after you’ve finished telling me yours! Go on, I can just tell that you’re bursting to say.” Jemma grinned. 

The short sigh from the other end of the line let her know that she was absolutely and utterly correct. 

“Well, like I said, I got a weird phone call.” He started. 

“It- It was- It was from the company, this organisation, called…” Fitz trailed.

Jemma’s breath seemed to catch in her throat. 

“Shield.” Fitz finished, his voice almost a whisper. 

“They’re government, kind of, they said, but also kind of their own thing. They have an academy, for elite minds they said, and they want me to go, a-and eventually work for them. It’s all the way in the states though Jemma. They said they’d pay for everything but I really don’t…” 

  
  


“FITZ!” Jemma squealed, feeling as though she were going to burst. 

“THAT’S MY NEWS TOO! SHIELD CALLED THIS MORNING! I WAS JUST ABOUT TO RING WHEN YOUR LETTER CAME! Oh this is SO exciting! We could finally meet Fitz! It’s almost been ten years but we could finally actually meet, and we could go to classes together, and oh won’t it be so nice to have someone that we know there too!” She exclaimed, hardly taking breath. 

She was met with, what she assumed was a stunned silence. 

“Fitz?” Jemma asked, after a whole minute of silence from his end of the phone. 

“A-are you serious?” He spluttered. 

“This isn’t a wind up? Shield called you this morning?” 

“Yes!” Jemma squealed. 

“Oh my god.” 

Jemma heard a slumping sound from the other end of the phone, which she could only assume was Fitz sitting down on the floor. 

“I-I know you’ve had a little bit longer to think about this than I have, but, do you think you’ll go?” Jemma asked tentatively. 

“Mum thinks I should. Now that they’ve offered to you too, she’ll never let me stay. I don’t want to leave her on her own.” 

Excitement seemed to drain from Jemma. How could she be so stupid? 

“Oh Fitz.” She sighed. 

“She’ll not let me stay.” Fitz said quietly after a moment. 

“Too good an opportunity to pass up, she said.” He added. 

Jemma couldn’t think what to say. 

“Y-you have to do what you think is best Fitz. A-and if that means staying, then that’s what you’ll do.” She eventually managed to stammer out. 

“I have been thinking about it. If I go, if I take this offer, I’ll be able to look after her. Big massive place like that, I don’t think the pay packet will be anything to sniff at. I can get her out of this grotty block of flats, she could give up one of her jobs. If I stayed, I don’t know. Might take me years to work up to that.” 

All Jemma wanted was to reach through the phone and give him a hug. 

“A-and now, with you getting the offer too… I don’t know. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.” Fitz sighed. 

“It sounds like you’re trying to talk yourself into it Fitz.” Jemma said quietly. 

“I am not! I’m just- I’m trying to weigh out my options. You’re a good sounding board you know.” He grumbled softly. 

Jemma gave a small smile. If he’d said that to her a few years ago, before she knew what he was like, she may have taken offence, but she knew that really, he’d meant it affectionately, as a compliment through the low, grumpy tone. 

“I’m going to come, Jemma.” He said softly, after a moment of silence.

“What?” 

“I’m going to come. To Shield. Can’t let you have all the fun can we?” 

A grin spread across her face. 

“Oh Fitz! It’s going to be so good! September seems so far away doesn’t it!” She squealed excitedly.

“It’s been nearly ten years Jemma. A few more months won’t kill us.” Fitz grumbled, but Jemma could hear the slight smile in his voice. 

September indeed, felt like years away, Jemma thought as she hung up the phone eventually. She was finally going to get to meet her best friend in the entire world. They were going to go to the Shield Academy together, and they were going to get to spend so much time with each other. Jemma thought she might burst with excitement and pure and utter joy. 

  
  


_ 8/09/2003 _

_ Dear Jemma _

_ Happy birthday! I have enclosed a card and something small for you. Part of me wanted to wait until next week and give it to you in person but I wanted you to have it for your birthday. It seems mental that this time next week we’ll have met each other in person. It’s mental to think really that you’re my best friend in the world and we haven’t met yet.  _

_ My flight gets in at ten am their time by the way, so a couple of hours before you. Mum’s coming to see me off, which she didn’t have to do, but she insisted. Something about not letting me travel such a far distance all on my own because whilst I have a PhD and a masters, I am still legally a minor. Which when you actually say it out loud, is ridiculous really. So anyway, my point is, you’ll get to meet her too. Doctor Weaver said that she can come with me to the first day of orientation, so she can see the arrangements they’ve made for me, given my age. Which again is stupid really. I assume you’ve had the same spiel. I started packing last night, at mum’s insistence. I know you’ve probably been packed for the last month, but really this is early for me. Your plane gets in at noon, so mum suggested that we meet on the quad at about four, and we could go for dinner together? I know it’s cutting it a bit fine to make plans but she said you’d need time to get unpacked and settle in and all that stuff, and that I would too. I have no idea how she knows this stuff. Some sixth sense that mums have I think. _

_ Anyway, I hope you have a lovely birthday and I’m really, really looking forward to seeing you on Sunday.  _

_ Six days and counting. _

_ Yours  _

_ Fitz _

  
  


_ 11/09/2003 _

_ Dear Fitz _

_ Thank you so much for the wonderful card and for the necklace! It’s beautiful! I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Did you make it yourself? But of course you won’t be able to answer that because by the time you get this it’ll be too late to write back. I’ll ask again on Sunday.  _

_ And for your information, I have been packed for the last two weeks, not the last month! I just have a few last minute bits to go and then I’m ready! I’m so excited Fitz! To meet you and to start this new adventure. I had a similar conversation with Doctor Weaver the other day, about the arrangements they’ve put in place for us, which of course they have to do! We’re minors! I’m sure it’d be against some kind of law for them to just let us run around willy nilly all over the place! It’s to keep us safe! Doctor Weaver says that we’re the youngest people they’ve ever admitted to the academy, can you believe it! We’re not even there yet and we’ve made history Fitz! Mum and Dad are coming with me for the first day of orientation too, so you’ll get to meet them as well! I have asked them about dinner on the Sunday and we would love to meet you. Four o’clock on the quad sounds absolutely perfect. We can go for a walk around campus and then get dinner. I’m so excited to meet you finally too. You know you’re my best friend in the world too, and yes it is odd we haven’t met. If only the gap between Glasgow and Sheffield had been shorter, then we could have met years ago.  _

_ I know this might sound silly, and you might not want to do it, but these letters have been such a saving grace for me these past, nearly nine years now, and not writing to you would feel so odd, so I was wondering if there might be some way that we could continue whilst we’re at the academy. We could just write notes and shove them under each other's dorm room doors? We can discuss it more in person I’m sure, that is if you want to. I’m sending this first class by the way, so it can get to you in time.  _

_ I cannot wait to finally meet you. _

_ Three days and counting. _

_ Love _

_ Jemma. _

  
  


Fitz was nervous. So nervous he felt like he could be sick. The flight from Glasgow to Boston had felt like the longest eight hours of his life. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat, which was a sure fire way to know something was wrong with him. He’d pulled out his notebook and tried to work on some sketches and ideas, but he couldn’t concentrate for the life of him. By the time they landed he was exhausted, starving, and even more nervous than when he’d got on the plane in Glasgow eight hours ago. His mum chucked a bag of crisps at him from her hand luggage as they waited for their suitcases and he munched on them quietly. Mum always seemed to know what he needed without even asking. An intimidating man in a black suit and aviator sunglasses was waiting for them once they’d passed through customs, holding a sign with his name on it. They followed him diligently outside to where a large car with dark tinted windows was waiting for them. Mum tried to engage the man in conversation, but thankfully for Fitz, he wasn’t up for much conversation. After driving for about an hour they pulled up to a large concrete building, an eagle shaped logo bam smack in the middle of the large sign that read: SHIELD ACADEMY: SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY DIVISION. Fitz gulped. Before he could realise it, they were being ushered out of the car, and his hand was being shaken by a tall woman who introduced herself as Doctor Weaver. 

“Oh Doctor Weaver!” Lorna Fitz exclaimed jovially. 

“Nice to meet you at last!” She smiled.

Fitz just gawped at the woman for a second before he felt a sharp dig in his ribs. 

“Y-yes! Nice to meet you Doctor Weaver.” He choked out. 

“Lovely to finally meet you too Doctor Fitz, Mrs Fitz.” Doctor Weaver smiled kindly. 

The next hour didn’t do much to help stop Fitz’s head feel as if it were spinning. Doctor Weaver gave them a short tour, which thankfully made the place feel slightly less intimidating. It did seem just like a normal University campus. Fitz couldn’t help but notice that everyone else here seemed to be at least five years or more older than him. Thank god for Jemma, Fitz thought, as his eyes fell on a large man passing by who looked as if he could pop Fitz’s head off with just his bicep. Doctor Weaver then led them into an intimidating looking administration building, where Fitz and his mother had to read and sign a small mountain of forms, made all the larger by the complicated issue of his age, requiring several forms relating to matters of custody and duty of care. Finally, Weaver led them to his new dorm room. 

“I am to take it that you already know one of our other new recruits, Doctor Jemma Simmons.” Weaver said conversationally as they walked across campus. 

“Y-Yes. We’ve known each other since we were seven.” Fitz stammered. 

Weaver smiled. 

“How nice! It will be very helpful to you to have a friend here, especially given your age. Coming to a new place, particularly one so far from home can be a bit scary and isolating, I know, but having a friend, especially one of such long standing, will be very helpful.” Weaver said. 

Fitz knew she was just trying to be comforting, but really all it did was just remind him that he was meeting Jemma in just a few short hours and made him feel as if he were going to be sick all over again. Someone had already brought all of the luggage up to the room, and Weaver left to let him get unpacked. All Fitz really wanted to do was to flop onto the bed and take a nap.  _ He  _ didn’t care much that it wasn’t made, but Lorna Fitz was having none of it. 

“I’m your mother! It’s my job to make your bed in your new place. Now, go and unpack some of your notes and tools that you won’t let me even near whilst I do this, and then you can have a wee sleep? How about that?” Lorna offered. 

Fitz knew he didn’t really have much of an option, and slumped over to pick up the bag that he knew held all of his tools. 

If anything the nap made him feel even worse. Fitz woke up groggy, a bit grumpy and  _ very  _ hungry. He glanced blearily down at his watch, which made him feel even worse. It was half past one. Jemma would be here by now. She may even be in the same building. Nerves, mixed with excitement, seemed to churn in his stomach. His mum nudged at him to get up and continue unpacking, whilst she sought out some lunch. He shoved clothes blindly into drawers for the next hour whilst eating a bologna sandwich that mum had brought from the cafeteria downstairs, though if he was being perfectly honest, he wasn’t quite sure what bologna was. All he knew was that it tasted not too bad and it seemed to stop his stomach churning for a bit. At ten to four his mum chucked his jacket at him and said it was time to go, ushering him from the room, all the while he prayed his bologna sandwich didn’t make a surprise reappearance. In the centre of the quad there was a large fountain, the rushing of the water was probably in reality not all that loud, but to Fitz it overwhelmed his senses, and it felt as if it was shaking him down to his bones. Bouncing nervously back and forth on his feet and checking his watch every five seconds didn’t seem to help. One minute past four struck and Fitz felt close to passing out. If there was anything he’d learned about Jemma over the past nine years, it was that she was unnervingly prompt. If she said she was going to phone at two o’clock, he needed to be standing at the phone exactly on the hour. At last from a distance he heard a voice. 

“Fitz!” The very familiar English voice sounded from across the way. 

Fitz turned swiftly on his heel and there she was. Flanked on each side by her parents, Jemma Simmons stood on the other side of the fountain, beaming at him. The smile that spread across his face was entirely involuntary. He couldn’t help it. He began to jog and so did she, stopping when they were but an arms length from each other. They’d sent photos back and forth over the years, so they’d long known what the other looked like, but now, Jemma Simmons, the actual person came into true focus in front of him. The first time Fitz had seen her photograph when he was seven years old, he knew then that she was pretty, but now confronted with the real thing, he could not deny, she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, the smile on her face extending to the most gorgeous chestnut brown eyes, tinged with flecks of gold, which seemed to swim with pure and utter delight. Fitz shakily held out his hand to her, to which she immediately rolled her eyes and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him into a truly bone crushing hug, which obviously, he returned. 

“Hello.” She murmured happily into his ear. 

“Hello.” He smiled back. 

Letting him go, only slightly, allowing them to lean back and take each other in, Jemma’s smile seemed somehow to get larger. 

“Nice to finally meet you.” She grinned. 

“You too. I’d love to keep writing by the way. We can figure so-something out over dinner.” Fitz mumbled, though it was hard to mumble when your face was being held captive by a wide, inescapable smile. 

Jemma pulled him back into a hug and Fitz caught sight of his mother over Jemma’s shoulder. She’d moved around to talk to Mr and Mrs Simmons, and both she and Mrs Simmons looked as if they were on the verge of tears, as the three of them looked on. When finally they broke apart, they turned to their parents, Lorna Fitz now actually wiping her eyes. The introductions were made:

“No dear, I insist you must call me Lorna.” 

“Now now son, Mr Simmons was my father, it’s Arthur or nothing.” 

And finally, they started off on their walk around campus, the adults trailing behind their children, Fitz and Jemma talking a mile a minute to each other. It seemed impossible to Fitz, that now, even after nearly nine full years of pretty constant correspondence, that he and Jemma could still find so much to talk about. At some point in the proceedings, Jemma had slipped her hand into his and Fitz felt his heart leap. If he was being truly and properly, deeply honest with himself, he’d nursed a crush on Jemma ever since he was nine years old, and had learned properly what that meant. He’d tucked it away, telling himself that they’d be better as friends, that they’d probably never get to meet anyway, their lives were so far away from each other. But now, faced with Jemma in the flesh, and potentially several years lived side by side, that familiar warm feeling seemed to creep around his heart again, never he feared, to be removed ever again. 

Jemma collapsed back onto her bed, exhausted. It had been a very, very long day, but the best one that she could remember in quite some time. Her parents had just left for their hotel, and she’d see them again tomorrow morning, first thing, for the first part of orientation before they had to leave again, but it felt odd, them not being around. They’d been around her whole life, or at least, they’d never been far. It was going to take a while to get used to that feeling. She flexed her hand as she lay on her back, remembering the warmth and oddly familiar weight of Fitz’s hand in hers. It was rough, callused, but gentle in its grip and touch. Meeting Fitz, truly, properly, for the first time, was easily the highlight of the day. The various photographs that he’d sent over the years really didn’t do him justice. Particularly not his eyes. They were so blue Jemma thought she’d like to swim in them. A heat began to crawl up her neck and Jemma gave herself a shake. No. They were friends. Just friends. Anything else would just ruin it. No matter how cute and bouncy his hair got when he got excited. Friends. Partners, no! Partners in science. Yes. Partners in science. Jemma liked that. His mum had been lovely too. Fitz really was a credit to her. They’d suffered that awful man for so many years, and yet Fitz had turned out this very gentle, incredibly kind, if not maybe slightly grumpy when it took their meal a half an hour to arrive at dinner, wonderful young man. The heat began to work its way up Jemma’s neck again, and she sat bolt upright in her bed. No. She could not, would not ruin the best friendship she’d ever had, and may ever have, with, with feelings. She would not do it, despite how boyishly handsome Fitz had turned out to be in real life. In an attempt to distract herself she began listing all of the things she’d need to do tomorrow.

  1. Wake up early. 
  2. Get breakfast from the cafeteria downstairs. 
  3. Unpack the last of her things before Orientation at 9am. 
  4. Attend morning Orientation with Mum and Dad. 
  5. Lunch with Mum and Dad before their flight
  6. Afternoon Orientation at 1.30pm



Jemma smiled to herself, satisfied that the day would run like clockwork. Everything that she’d seen so far had indicated that SHIELD liked to run on a tight schedule, which was just to her liking. Just as she got up to get ready for bed, she watched as a small slip of paper slid through the crack in her door. Only one other person on campus knew who she was. He walked over and saw her name scrawled in the familiar handwriting, and slid it open. 

_ 15/09/2003 _

_ Dear Jemma _

_ It was amazing meeting you today. I don’t know what I imagined it would be like, but honestly it was better. I figured I should write first, since you wrote me last. It’s only fair that way really.  _

_ I meant to ask before we left tonight, would you maybe want to get dinner together tomorrow night. I know you said you were having lunch with your parents tomorrow before they leave, I’m doing the same with mum, but I don’t know about you, but I don’t really want to be in that big cafeteria on my own tomorrow night. I thought it might be better if we did it together. Might make it a little less terrible. People might stare, like they normally do. Might be able to suffer it better together? Anyway let me know tomorrow morning when I see you at Orientation.  _

_ Oh, also before I forget, I’m in the Howard Stark Building, room 511, if you want to send a reply.  _

_ See you tomorrow. _

_ Fitz _

Jemma couldn’t help but grin. Mentally she added another item to her list.

7\. Dinner with Fitz. 6pm. 

She flushed again, the implications of that simple sentence whirling around her head like a hurricane. Shaking her head again, she moved over to her desk and looked at the map she had laid neatly out. The Howard Stark Building was right across from her own. She could see it easily from her window. That would be handy, Jemma thought. In an instant she was sat down in her desk chair, pen in hand, blank sheaf of paper in front of her. 

_ 15/09/2003 _

_ Dear Fitz... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> See you all next week! They're eighteen and things are BOUND to get a little interesting ;)
> 
> Skye :)


	4. 2005 (Eighteen Years Old) part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Fitz’s 18th birthday, and Jemma has several surprises in store. Will a particularly special letter change everything between them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! I’m very excited about this chapter! You are in for a treat, I PROMISE! Expect much sweetness in every single sense of the word. I actually had planned for this chapter and the next to be just one chapter but this just ran away from me and suddenly what was supposed to only be the first half was nearly 4k long. Ah well, it just means I get to tease you all for another week! I will let you get to the reading! Enjoy!

_ 19/08/2005 _

_ Dear Fitz _

_ Happy Birthday! Eighteen! A proper grown up and everything! I hope you like your present, it took me ages to track it down and well, you know what it’s like trying to get anything delivered to Academy dorms. I still feel so sorry for that poor pizza boy.  _

_ Anyway, I cannot believe it has been almost eleven years that we’ve been writing to each other. Most of our lives. Can you believe it? You have been the best friend I ever could have hoped for, I’m not sure I could have dreamed, or planned or sketched out a better one myself. Sometimes I wonder if we were made for each other. I am so grateful for you, more than you can ever know. Just having you by my side, through your words, and for the last two years in the more literal sense of the phrase, has been such a good support, and honestly just a joy. I don’t know how I would have made it here without you, so thank you Fitz, for everything. There’s nobody I would rather be FitzSimmons with.  _

_ I’ll see you at lunch and then remember we’re going off campus for your birthday tea. I’ll meet you at half past five on the quad!  _

_ Happy Birthday again! _

_ Love _

_ Jemma _

Fitz seemed to melt. He was glad he’d saved Jemma’s letter, and present, for last, because he felt like he could not breathe, never mind move or talk or anything else that required basic human functionality. She’d been signing her letters “Love Jemma” for years, but this, this felt different. Maybe he was reading too much into it. By the time he got his thoughts back under control again, which these days, herding those  _ particular _ thoughts into the back of his mind was much like herding cats, he seemed to have regained the motor function in his hands again, and tore at the neatly wrapped parcel to which Jemma’s letter had been attached. As the paper came away, Fitz let out a gasp. 

“Jemma.” He muttered, pulling the small case completely out of the wrapping. 

A small note in Jemma’s handwriting was attached to the top. 

_ Dear Fitz _

_ As you will no doubt recognise, this is the Fourth Doctor's sonic screwdriver. It was one of the actual props used on set, so yes, Tom Baker himself has touched and used this. I only wish I didn’t have an early class so I could see the look on your face right now, and I wanted you to have it in the morning. There’s a certificate of authentication in the baseplate, just in case you think I’m fibbing.  _

_ Happy 18th Birthday!  _

_ Love  _

_ Jemma _

Fitz’s heart seemed to flip at those two words again, but only momentarily. He stared down at the little glass case where the sonic screwdriver was so carefully mounted and displayed in complete and utter awe. Jemma Simmons really was a wonder. How on earth had she pulled that off? The rush of feelings that suddenly overwhelmed him seemed to hit him like a proverbial two by four. Oh.  _ Oh.  _ All this time he’d… But she would never… His heart seemed to pound in his chest, demanding he listen to it, but all Fitz could concentrate on was his sweaty, shaking hands and the realisation that had just knocked the wind out of him.

After taking a moment, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, Fitz turned the case gently on its side, his hands still shaking, and slid back the small opening in the baseplate. Sure enough there was a small certificate, certifying that this had indeed been used by Tom Baker himself. Fitz couldn’t seem to fathom anything. It was the best present he’d ever received. Both he and Jemma had watched Doctor Who reruns on the telly when they were younger, and he’d been ecstatic when she mentioned in one of her letters that she’d watched it. And then when the new series had been announced nearly two years ago now, they’d both been over the moon. Saturday nights very quickly and easily became Doctor Who nights, and their letters back and forth filled with theories and thoughts of the new episodes (Jemma claimed to have predicted the Bad Wolf twist, which Fitz decreed impossible, it was such a clever twist and it remained a point of contention between them now, almost two months later). Tom Baker was Fitz’s favourite Doctor easily, whilst Jemma favoured Jon Pertwee, another active topic of debate between them. Fitz turned the case around in his hands, gazing at every single inch of the screwdriver. Incredible. Impossible really. Part of him itched to take it out, to see how it was put together, how it worked, his engineers brain kicking in, but the other half was terrified in case he broke it. The little case was placed pride of place in the top center of his desk, unmissable to the eye, right next to a framed photo of himself and Jemma from his birthday last year. His heart seemed to flip at the sight. Padding back over to his bed Fitz picked up Jemma’s letter, and read it again, allowing the warm flow of affection to wash over him. Affection, his inner voice seemed to scoff. Fitz placed the letter in his lap and sighed. His inner voice was right. What he felt for Jemma, he couldn’t just tack affection onto it anymore and ignore the reality of it. He hadn’t been able to do that for a very long time, since the very first day they met in person if he was being truly honest with himself. No, Fitz knew in his heart that he had long been utterly head over heels in love with Jemma Simmons for quite some time. It had just taken that letter and a sonic screwdriver to make him realise it. 

Fitz had never been more nervous for a lunch in his entire life. Realising that you were very much in love with your best friend didn’t do very much for your social skills apparently. Jemma was stood waiting for him outside the cafeteria, and gave him a friendly wave when she noticed him. He tried desperately to ignore the voice in his brain which was telling him to run away, hide in his room and never see anyone or the true light of day ever again, and forced himself to continue to put one foot in front of the other. Jemma didn’t hesitate before flinging herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. 

“Happy birthday!” Jemma squealed into his ear. 

Fitz winced, only slightly, but grinned all the same. And suddenly it was as if he forgot to be anxious, to be nervous or scared. A warmth spread through him at her touch, and he felt calm and content. Happy. He felt happy. Jemma had always managed to have this effect on him, even though her letters. 

“Oh get a room FitzSimmons.” Someone jeered as they walked past. 

“Yeah just kiss already.” Another voice added. 

And suddenly that feeling was gone. A flush crept up Fitz’s neck and he could feel it spread all the way up to his hairline. FitzSimmons was the collective nickname their fellow students had given them about a month after they’d started at the Academy, and when they’d found out that they’d actually known each other for the better part of a decade, well that’s when the jokes about them dating had started. Fitz hadn’t known that people almost ten years their senior could be so immature. But today, well today their comments seemed to hit someplace different. 

“Ignore them.” Jemma chirped, but letting him go all the same. 

If anything this seemed to make his cheeks burn more furiously. Fitz swung nervously on his heels trying to think where to begin, twisting his hands together and staring at his feet. 

“Did you like your present?” Jemma asked tentatively.

Fitz’s head shot up and he stared at her. She was looking at him through her eyelashes, and Fitz’s stomach seemed to lurch. He’d made her nervous. 

“Jemma, it’s incredible. How on earth did you get it?” Fitz breathed. 

Jemma’s cheeks seemed to tinge a bit pink. 

“Oh it was nothing! I-I just looked at a couple of collectors websites in my spare time.” Jemma stammered, brushing it off.

Fitz couldn’t help but smile. 

“It’s the best present I’ve ever gotten. Really.” 

Jemma seemed to flush even more red, a smile spreading across her face. 

“Really?! I-I’m glad.” 

“Yeah, Jemma. Your letter, your uh- letter was amazing too. Thank you. Not sure I deserved all the nice things you said really.” 

“Nonsense! I meant every word!” Jemma insisted in the tone which Fitz knew it was pointless to argue with. 

“You mean a lot to me Fitz. Truly.” 

Fitz opened his mouth to try and stammer out a reply, but was interrupted by his stomach letting out a large grumble. Jemma laughed and somehow, the atmosphere that had built up ever since those other students had shouted at them, seemed to dissolve. 

“I guess that’s your not so subtle way of telling me we should get inside and get some lunch.” Jemma chuckled. 

Fitz let out a shaky laugh. 

“Ye-yeah. I guess so.” 

Everything seemed to be fine again after that. Or as fine as it could be. Fitz still felt he was still shaking from head to toe. After lunch he and Jemma were in the lab together all afternoon. Really, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend his birthday. It hadn’t taken them long at all to realise that when they put their heads together, they were twice as smart. It hadn’t taken their tutors long to realise that either. Fitz knew that he was at his best when he was working with Jemma. Everything was better with her. The last two years had been the best of his life with her by his side. God, he was such an idiot, he thought as he watched her work. How had he not realised it sooner? They parted at the end of the day only to get changed for dinner. Something nice, Jemma had said. As he stared at his wardrobe Fitz really had no idea what that meant. Thoughts just seemed to go round and round in his head, stupid ones, like what if they ran out of things to talk about, which was just nonsense. They’d never in the whole time they’d known each other had nothing to talk about. But it seemed different now. He loved her. Surely it would be different. They were going somewhere nice for dinner. Like a date, a traterious voice in his head seemed to whisper. That thought was far too much for him to cope with and was promptly shoved into the deep recesses of his brain. It was just Jemma. But also, it was Jemma. Just as he was getting ready to throw the towel in and phone Jemma to tell her he’d much rather stay in and get take-out, though he wasn’t sure she was quite recovered from the pizza incident yet, the phone on his desk began to ring. 

“Happy birthday darlin’!” Lorna Fitz’s voice sounded as Fitz held the receiver to his ear. 

“Hi mum.” Fitz smiled down the phone. 

“Oh I cannot believe it! Eighteen. You’re a man now! Oh it seems like only yesterday you were only that tiny wee toot staring back at me in my arms.” 

“Muuuuummm.” Fitz groaned down the phone. 

He could just picture the grin on her face at his reaction.

“I promise we can go to the pub when you come home over Christmas, since you can’t over there yet. You can treat your old maw to a drink eh? Have you had a nice day? Did my parcel get there okay? Have you and Jemma done anything nice?” Lorna rattled off in quick succession.

“Yeah, it’s been a good day. Was in the lab for most of it with Jemma. And yes your parcel got here fine. Thanks for the box of tablet and the twiglets. You make the best tablet.” Fitz replied. 

“Good! You’re welcome sweetheart. Too bad I couldn’t send the pot over for you to scrape. Never saw you move faster when you were a wee boy than when there was the tablet pot to get stuck into.” Lorna chuckled. 

“Yeah.” Fitz smiled. 

“Anyway, are you doing anything nice with your evening? Jemma got anything planned?” Lorna asked again. 

“We’re supposed to be going out for dinner, but I’ve no clue what to wear.” Fitz groaned. 

“Oh really Leo? What did Jemma say to wear?”

“Just something nice But I’ve no clue what that means.” Fitz grumbled.

“You know that bluey-green shirt I gave you last christmas? Does it still fit?” Lorna asked. 

Fitz picked up the phone set and dragged the cord over to the wardrobe, rifling for the shirt in question. 

“Yeah.” Fitz said, jamming the receiver between his ear and his neck as he pulled it out. 

“That, your nice brown slacks, your dress shoes and your blazer.” 

Fitz let out a sigh of relief. 

“Thanks mum.”

“No bother. Really, eighteen years old with a PhD, living on his own in America and still has to get his mother to help dress him. I ask you.” 

Fitz felt his face going slightly red, but he grinned all the same. 

Dinner with Jemma was, was perfect. They’d never done anything like this before. They hadn’t really had occasion to. Fitz’s heart seemed to catch in his throat as he met her beforehand. She was in a beautiful blue dress that came to her knees and she’d done her hair in curls, an alice band keeping it from her face, whilst the rest cascaded down her back. Fitz thought he could probably count on his hand how many times he’d seen Jemma in a skirt, never mind a dress. She  _ was _ the poster girl of lab health and safety afterall. As they were sat at their table, Fitz seemed to forget what on earth to do with his hands. He moved them from his lap to the table, fiddled with his cutlery and picked his menu up and placed it back down more times than he could count. Jemma ordered a bottle of sparkling cider, and insisted they do a birthday toast. They didn’t run out of things to talk about, much to Fitz’s relief. 

“Okay, can I get you guys anything else?” The waitress smiled as she brought their meals. 

“No, thank you, this looks lovely.” Jemma smiled politely 

“No problem. Just catch me if you need anything. And can I just say that y’all are such a cute little couple.” The waitress beamed.

Fitz, who had been taking a drink from his water glass, choked. He started shaking again, not just because he’d been choking, and felt that familiar red beam flash across his face. 

“Oh-oh no! W-w-we’re not a couple.” Jemma stammered out, looking rather flustered herself. 

The poor waitress looked mortified. 

“Oh I’m so sorry! I just thought…” 

“N-no! Really it’s fine. We’re just friends! You’re not the first to ah- make that assumption.” Jemma squawked.

“Thank you. A-anyway, you folks enjoy your meal.” The waitress stammered before making a rather hasty exit.

They sat in silence for a moment, neither quite knowing what to say. Fitz wasn’t sure that if he tried to speak that anything even remotely coherent would come out. Was it that obvious? That the waitress who had known them for all of about five minutes just assumed they were together. That the other students on campus gave them guff about it on a daily basis. Even his mum had made some not so subtle comments this evening before he’d hung up. Was it so obvious to everyone around them that he was head over heels in love with her and he’d only been privy to that information himself for about twelve hours. It was Jemma, of course that valiantly tried to strike up conversation again, and Fitz allowed himself to be lulled by in again, aided by the bright, intelligent eyes and the soft waft of lavender that seemed to come over him every time Jemma moved. Fitz tried his best to relax, to find some kind of ease again, but it seemed impossible. He found himself eternally jittery and on edge. He just, he didn’t want to mess this up. Jemma was his best friend. Had been since they were seven years old. He couldn’t lose her. He had no idea what he’d do then. But her letter had made him think that maybe… No. No. Jemma just saw him as a friend. Her best friend, he knew that. But just her friend. 

He did however, have to hide his disappointment when Jemma dismissed the offer of the dessert menu. He’d spied a warm chocolate fudge brownie with a caramel centre and ice cream on there earlier and had been looking forward to it all evening. Jemma however noticed the look on his face and smiled, letting him know she had something else planned, a surprise. His intrigue piqued when Jemma drove past the turn that would take them back to campus and instead drove on. They parked in a rather generic looking car park, Jemma pulling a long cylinder and a box out of the boot. Fitz thought he could take a rather good guess at what both of those items were. She slung the strap of the cylinder over her shoulder and tucked the box under her arm and held out her hand. 

“Come on.” She smiled. 

Fitz couldn’t help but smile too, and reached out and took her offered hand. It was soft and gentle, a comforting presence, and Fitz felt himself melting all over again. His heart seemed to pound in his chest as Jemma led him through a park and eventually up a large hill. 

“Jemma.” Fitz wheezed when they were halfway up. 

“I don’t remember asking for cardio for my birthday.”   
  


Jemma rolled her eyes, but smiled. 

“Come on, we’re nearly there.” She grinned, giving his hand a playful tug. 

When they reached the top of the hill, Jemma stopped, turning to look at him. Dropping his hand, she placed the box down, and pulled out a blanket, some paper plates and a small cake, covered in chocolate icing. 

“Jemma.” Fitz breathed. 

“Happy birthday.” She smiled, reaching for the long cylinder. 

Fitz watched as she unpacked the telescope, looking down at her in awe. She really was the most wonderful person he’d ever known. 

“Stargazing.” She said simply, once she’d finished setting it up. 

“But first, cake!” She exclaimed, grabbing his hand and pulling him down to join her on the blanket which she had so neatly set up.

She sang happy birthday gently and with a big smile on her face and Fitz felt like his heart would burst. He loved her so much he almost could not bear it. They sat under the stars and ate cake and gazed up at the night sky, as they had done so many times together, whether that was hundreds of miles apart, like they did when they were younger, or now, tucked into each other to keep from getting cold. Fitz couldn’t think of a more perfect way to celebrate his birthday. He almost didn’t want to go back. He could live in this very moment for the rest of his life and be quite content. Jemma however, still being underage, had to adhere to the annoying eleven pm curfew which had been the bane of Fitz’s life for the past two years. They stopped in the quad, where they had met, and Fitz found himself wishing the evening didn’t have to end quite yet. He looked down at his watch, and saw 10:50pm blinking back up at him. Knowing Jemma she’d want to be back at least five minutes early, just in case. 

“T-thank you so much for today Jemma. It-it’s been such a good day.” He stammered. 

In the glow of the streetlights, Fitz could make out the flush that came to her cheeks. 

“You’re welcome. I-I mean it’s a special birthday. I wanted to make sure it was perfect.” Jemma smiled. 

“Well you’ve set the bar very high. Have no idea how I’m going to top this for yours.” Fitz grinned. 

“You’ll think of something. I’m sure. I’m sure I’ll love anything you come up with.” 

They stood silently for a moment, Fitz not wanting the night to end, and unless he was mistaken, Jemma seemed fairly hesitant too. 

“W-well, you should probably get back. Curfew.” Fitz said quietly, breaking the quiet. 

“Yes.” Jemma said, seeming to break out of a kind of daze. 

“Goodnight Jemma.” He smiled. 

Fitz watched as Jemma seemed to decide something very quickly. He could see her mind working furiously behind her eyes. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, Jemma had darted forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. The scent of her overwhelmed him, her lips lingering over his skin before she pulled back again. 

“Goodnight Fitz. I’m glad you’ve had a good day.” She whispered, before turning quickly on her heel and bolting off. 

Fitz watched her go, dazed. Only when she was out of sight did he realise that he had not moved an inch since she had kissed his cheek. He brought his hand up to his face, and traced the small circle of skin where Jemma’s lips had been. If he was wrong, about how she felt, he would be the happiest fool in the world. If he was right, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to bear it. But one thing was for certain, he wasn’t sure he could keep it to himself anymore. He felt as if he could explode with it. With love for her. Love for Jemma Simmons. Suddenly a thought popped into his head, and very quickly that thought became and idea, which in turn became a plan. Fitz all but ran back to his dorm room, slamming the door behind him. He had work to do. Fitz sat down at his desk, determined, shrugging off his blazer. He had exactly twenty three days to get this right. He could still feel the imprint of her lips on his cheek. He pulled a piece of paper to the middle of the desk, picked up his pen and started writing. 

_ Dear Jemma... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note for those non-Scots among us: Tablet is a treat that is essentially pure sugar boiled down with condensed milk and left to solidify until you get a crumbly little bar of just pure sweetness and it honestly just sounds right up Fitz's alley. I have many a happy memory sitting on my granny's back step scraping out the molten tablet pot with my siblings and I figured that Fitz would love that, particularly since being an only child means you get the pot all to yourself.   
> ANYWAY  
> I will see you next week when it’s Jemma’s birthday! 
> 
> Skye :)


	5. 2005 (Eighteen Years Old) part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz has been acting a little odd ever since his birthday, but Jemma is determined not to let feelings get in the way of her having the best eighteenth birthday ever, or will so many unsaid feelings get in the way of their friendship forever?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well well. I WONDER what Fitz could POSSIBLY have planned for this most momentous of days?? In all seriousness though ya’ll are gonna SHOUT AT ME. I’m prepared, I’m ready. I really wish I was sorry. I’m not. I’m really not. Without further adieu I will let you get to the reading and to the inevitable shouting, enjoy! ;)

The morning of Jemma Simmons’s eighteenth birthday dawned crisp and bright. Glancing over at the clock on her bedside table she saw it read seven am. She normally got up at six, but well, it was her birthday. Yawning as she swung her feet over the edge of her bed, Jemma stretched her legs before getting up and flinging open the curtains, letting the light in. It was set to be a good day. She had classes all morning, lunch with Fitz, and labs with Fitz all afternoon, followed by a meeting with Weaver. Her evening was a complete mystery, Fitz insisting that it was a surprise. He’d been acting a bit odd ever since his birthday. Jemma’s cheeks flushed at the memory. She’d made him uncomfortable, she knew it. He’d never think of her as anything more than a friend, which was fine, understandable really. She just had to get her own feelings under control. Jemma closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. She’d been too obvious when she’d kissed him on the cheek and she knew it. But watching him that night, icing smeared across his face as he laughed at something she’d said, not that it had been remotely funny, as they sat under the stars, it was like the most delightful punch to the gut. She loved him. Plain and simple. She was in love with her best friend, because of course she was. Probably had been for a very very long time, longer than she realised. It made her feel equal parts giddy, and utterly terrified. She could not lose him. Letting out another long sigh, Jemma rubbed at her eyes and began getting ready for the day, resolving to put her feelings for Fitz to one side for today, and just enjoy her birthday. 

It was a lovely day, the lingering summer heat still gently beating through the clouds. Jemma, who prided herself on her ability to compartmentalise her feelings, managed to shove her feelings about Fitz to the back of her mind and set her focus on her classes. This however seemed all to go to pot when Fitz appeared outside the cafeteria, a happy birthday greeting on his lips. He’d grown his hair out a bit, the curls bouncing slightly as he walked, and clearly he’d woken up late this morning, the tell-tale scruff around his jaw giving him away. Jemma gulped. He no longer looked like the little boy she remembered from the photographs he’d sent over the years, but in the best possible way. A red blush seemed to creep up her neck as she watched him, her resolve to put her feelings to one side for her birthday, flying very quickly out the window. 

“Happy eighteenth Jemma!” He beamed, rather more shyly than his usual. 

He’d seemed a bit more shy since, well, since  _ that _ evening. This revelation did not stop the grin from spreading across her face. 

“Thank you Fitz!” She smiled back. 

He shuffled awkwardly back and forth on his feet. They hadn’t exactly been in close physical proximity since the evening of his birthday. Every time she’d felt him get close, Jemma felt as if her heart would start beating at million miles a minute and she needed to take a step back, before thoughts of his breath caressing her cheek, or other, more intimate places, threatened to overwhelm her. Jemma felt her cheeks flush as the memory flooded the forefront of her mind again, and suddenly the day felt much warmer than it had been two moments earlier. 

“L-lunch?” Fitz stammered, pointing towards the entrance. 

“Yes! Yes of course!” Jemma said after a moment, shaking herself out of her reverie. 

Jemma followed him inside and tried to get a grip of herself again, but watching the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck was too distracting for words. Somehow she managed to stammer her way through lunch. For some reason, it seemed that Fitz was acting even more strangely than he had been the last few weeks. Then again, Jemma wasn’t sure she was in any fit state herself to make that judgement. After some gentle needling about what their evening would entail, to which Fitz did not budge even slightly, the atmosphere seemed to ease a little, and they made their way happily to the lab. The lab was their happy place really. The place where they were totally and utterly in sync, where they made the world make sense. It wasn’t as if her feelings all melted away when they worked together, if anything it seemed to set them on fire. Watching Fitz work, scratching at his chin, or standing back from his work bench staring at the problem he was working on, both hands on his hips, made Jemma only wonder how on earth she could possibly love him more than she already did, and how she could not imagine her life without him. They’d made some good progress on their project, which they now hoped to be their graduation project, some reconnaissance drones called the Golden Retrievers. Fitz had named them and always had the goofiest little smile on his face whenever he said it, and as a result, Jemma hadn’t put up much protest. Before she knew it, it was time to leave for the meeting with Weaver. It wasn’t exactly a surprise what she wanted to talk about, Fitz having been called to a similar meeting two days before. Graduating early, not that it would be anything new to either of them, would still make them the youngest graduates in the history of The Academy. 

Two hours later and Jemma was, for the first time in her life, running late. Her meeting with Weaver had gone well over its allotted time, and she was supposed to be meeting Fitz in forty five minutes, for the surprise element of her birthday. She ran back to her dorm room as quickly as she could, with notes and books in her arms, mentally sketching out an expedited timetable so that she could still be on time for meeting Fitz. Thank god she’d picked her outfit out a week ago. She’d pulled the red dress out of her wardrobe last night, and hung it neatly on her wardrobe door, flanked by perfectly matching little red sandals of course. Heels were just impractical, both in the lab and in real life. She flew into her room like a hurricane, dumping her books on her desk before doing a double take. A small box, and a vase of flowers sat neatly on her desk. Smiling and turning back to her desk Jemma wondered how on earth she could have missed the large yellow blossoms. Sunflowers. If possible the smile on Jemma’s face got wider. There was a small card propped on the front of the vase, which Jemma took up eagerly. 

_ Jemma _

_ Happy 18th Birthday! I hope you know how grateful I am for you and how much you mean to me.  _

_ Love _

_ Fitz.  _

_ P.S I hope the earrings match.  _

Jemma’s breath seemed not only to catch in her throat, but get stuck there entirely. Her heart pounded as she traced those two precious words: “Love Fitz.”. Never, in nearly eleven years of writing back and forth had he ever signed any of his letters like that. Jemma knew. She’d checked. It took a moment for her to steady her breathing again, to stop her head from whirling around. Surely, surely this meant that he felt something, at least similar to what she felt for him. Her stomach seemed to flip at the very thought. There had been times over the last few years when she’d wondered if Fitz even knew she was a girl, but this… this had to be something. Placing the card back next to the vase of flowers, Jemma’s eyes fell on the little box, which somehow, over her utter amazement of those two little words, she had somehow managed to forget about. Flipping the box of the lid open, Jemma let out a small gasp. 

“Oh Fitz.” She breathed, tracing her fingers over the two small silver studs that lay perfectly against the white satin interior.

Two little silver strands crossed over a gemstone, diamonds, she recognised, real ones, Fitz was going to get in trouble for that, before looping around, holding the gems perfectly in place. Jemma could have recognised the craftsmanship from a mile off. He’d made them himself. The silver matched perfectly with the necklace he’d made her for her sixteenth birthday. Jemma brought her hand up and toyed with the chain around her neck. She wore it always. It was perfectly in line with lab safety protocols afterall, and so were the earrings. There was no doubt in her mind that Fitz had had that in mind when making them. He knew her far too well. This at least in part, explained his behaviour over the past few weeks. He must have been sneaking into the lab very early, or probably more likely, very late, knowing Fitz, to have them ready in time. Jemma felt tears spring to her eyes, and her hands shook and she unfastened the earrings from the box, and put them in. She darted quickly over to the mirror and pulled her hair back so as to see them properly. They were beautiful, and caught the light in the most perfect way. Every time she thought he couldn’t do anything that could possibly make her love him more, he pulled something like this. Suddenly remembering herself Jemma looked down at her watch and gasped. She was supposed to be meeting Fitz in twenty five minutes. How much time had she spent looking at that note? 

Twenty five minutes later, Jemma was darting down to the quad, silently grateful for her aversion to heels, as she half walked, half ran across campus. For the first time in the whole time they’d been at The Academy, Fitz had made it there before her. He smiled at the sight of her, and Jemma didn’t miss the way he was nervously twisting his hands together. 

“H-hi.” Fitz stammered. 

“Hi.” Jemma puffed out, her breathing still rapid from her mad dash across campus. 

Her face felt warm and she was aware that she probably looked extraordinarily disheveled. 

“So this is a first. Me being early I mean.” Fitz grinned awkwardly. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry Fitz. My meeting with Weaver ran over and then when I got back to my room I got distracted by those beautiful presents you left for me.” Jemma rambled.

  
  


“Jemma!” Fitz half laughed.

“I  _ was  _ teasing. I know what you’re like. I knew it would be something like that.” 

Jemma felt some of the tension she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding in her shoulders, melt away. 

“S-so you liked the presents?” Fitz asked tentatively.

“Of course! The flowers are beautiful and the earrings! My goodness Fitz! They’re amazing. I cannot thank you enough. Diamonds Fitz! Really?! You shouldn’t have!” Jemma exclaimed. 

Jemma watched as Fitz’s face turned the most endearing shade of pink. She pulled back one side of her hair to let him see where the earrings now sat, glinting in her ears. 

“I-it was nothing. Really.” Fitz muttered as he instinctively leaned forward to look. 

Jemma felt his breath just slightly graze the side of her cheek, and the whole world seemed to spin. 

“No Fitz, it wasn’t. They’re beautiful. The best present anyone has ever given me.” Jemma breathed. 

He was still very close. Jemma found that her breathing was determined not to even out.

“Y-you’re welcome.” He stammered. 

“W-was that everything?” Fitz asked softly after a moment. 

Jemma knew that her being late, or not as prompt as she normally was, may have put pain to his plans. 

“Y-yes, I think so. Have I made us late?” Jemma worried. 

Fitz seemed to stiffen at her words, and take a step back. Jemma couldn’t account for it. 

“No. Not at all. A-are you ready?” He asked.

There was something different about his voice, Jemma thought, but she could not account for it. Like he was holding something back. That was new. Since his dad had left, Fitz had always told her everything, and she, him. Well, almost everything. It didn’t improve either. Fitz was subdued the whole way to the car. When they were on the road, Jemma tried to engage him in a conversation about her meeting with Weaver, how excited she was that they’d be graduating early, and where she hoped they’d be assigned after graduation, because of course, they’d be mad to split them up, not after they’d seen how well they worked together. But Fitz gave only small, short answers, and at times didn’t seem to be listening at all, leaving Jemma to wonder what it was that she’d said or done to upset him. She ran meticulously over everything they’d said to each other throughout the day, and couldn’t fathom anything that could have upset him. By the time the car pulled to a stop, Jemma was more confused than ever. Perhaps she’d been wrong earlier. Perhaps it would just be better if they stayed friends. People fell into unrequited love all the time and lived to tell the tale, she told herself. But then again, most people didn’t fall into unrequited love with their best friend who they’d known since they were seven years old. Jemma wondered if it was possible to move on from that level of intimacy and friendship, without breaking your heart into a thousand little pieces. Looking up from her lap for the first time in a while, Jemma finally registered where they were. The soft sounds of the waves was what gave it away at first. The sun was just beginning to set over the horizon, tinges of orange making the entire beachfront seem as if it were glowing. 

“Oh Fitz, this is beautiful.” Jemma sighed as her eyes followed the line of the horizon. 

Fitz didn’t say anything in response, but out of the corner of her eye, Jemma saw him tinge slightly pink. Getting out of the car, it did not take Jemma long to put together the pieces of Fitz’s plan. From the boot he unpacked a large picnic basket and several oversized blankets, which he handed to her as he struggled with the straps of the basket. Jemma felt herself melt at the mere idea. A picnic on the beach, at sunset. The romantic implications of it were not lost on her either. 

“Would you like a hand? I could grab the other side?” Jemma offered, unwilling to watch Fitz struggle with the large basket any further. 

“N-No. I’m fine. It’s not far anyway.” Fitz insisted, finally getting a good grip on the straps, and hoisting the basket up to his chest. 

Fitz was right. It only took them five minutes to walk to a perfect little cove. Jemma knew, logically that they weren’t far from the carpark or even from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town, but here, well it felt as if they were the only two people on earth. It was perfect. For a while it seemed as if Fitz had come out of his funny mood. He grinned at the look on her face as he pulled successions of her favourite foods out of the basket, ending with a large victoria sponge cake, topped with eighteen perfect candles. Jemma felt as if she could burst into the most dramatic happy tears. 

“And last but not least…” Fitz said, rummaging around in the bottom of the basket. 

Jemma leaned up on her haunches trying to get a good look at what he was grabbing at, but Fitz swatted her away. 

“Fitz!” Jemma shouted as she watched him pull out a bottle of champagne and two plastic glasses. 

He just let out a small laugh in response. 

“Fitz, it’s illegal! Not just for us to have it and drink it, but to drink it in public! And you’re driving! How on earth did you even get that?” Jemma cried. 

Fitz grinned and turned the bottle around, showing her the label. What she had taken for a bottle of champagne was in fact just a very posh looking bottle of sparkling cider. Jemma frowned as Fitz continued to chuckle. 

“Oh I wish you could have seen your face!” He laughed. 

Jemma reached out and swatted him on the arm. 

“It’s not funny Fitz! If we’d been caught with alcohol we could have been kicked out of the Academy and then you wouldn’t be laughing.” Jemma chastised. 

“I know, I know! But really, your face was worth it.” He grinned. 

“Ugh Fitz! It’s my birthday! I thought the point of that was that you’re supposed to be nice to me all day.” Jemma teased. 

“I’m always nice to you!” Fitz protested. 

Jemma couldn’t help but grin. He wasn’t wrong. They did tease each other on the regular, but they both knew it was in good fun. They laughed and ate, and Fitz even sang happy birthday to her. Since her eighth birthday, Jemma had always wished for one thing when she blew out her candles: to finally meet Fitz. But for the past two years she had to change it up slightly, instead wishing to be a world renowned biochemist and run a successful lab. But this year, this year she wished for something different: to spend the rest of her life with Fitz, no matter in what capacity. Jemma laughed as she watched him hoover up his slice of cake, and then promptly dive in for a leftover sandwich. No idle food was ever safe around Fitz. Once they’d finished eating Jemma kicked off her shoes and offered Fitz her hand. Tentatively he took it, and she led him to the shallows, where paddling very quickly turned into a splashing war. A truce was swiftly made, neither of them wanting to sit soaking wet the whole car journey home. Jemma took Fitz’s hand again and tucked herself into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. The sun was nearly completely down now, the sky more black than orange now, but the last little sliver of sun was still gently lighting up the sky with that wonderful soft glow. 

“Thank you for a wonderful birthday.” Jemma mumbled.

She felt Fitz stiffen again at her words.

“Y-you’re welcome.” He stammered. 

His voice sounded funny again, like it did before. This time seemed to confuse Jemma even more. He was acting strangely and she could not account for it at all. 

“W-we should uh, head back before it gets really dark.” Fitz stumbled. 

Jemma felt him begin to shuffle away from her, and let go of his hand. A stab of guilt ran through her. Maybe she’d pushed too hard again. This was probably just his way of letting her know that he only thought of her as a friend. Jemma hadn’t imagined that it would sting quite so much. The drive back was all but silent, Jemma twisting her hands in her lap, doing her best not to cry. She would get over it. She would get over it and they would just be friends and everything would be as it was before. It would be fine. They wandered silently back to the quad, and Jemma watched as Fitz toyed with his hands. That usually meant he was trying to work out a problem. She heard him let out a long sigh, before he caught her arm lightly, stopping them both in their tracks. 

“Jemma, look, I-I know I said that we didn’t have to talk about it if you didn’t want to, but I don’t think I can.” 

Jemma furrowed her brow, confused. 

“What do you mean?” She asked. 

“Really Jemma? I know I said you could ignore it, but pretending that it didn’t even happen is something else.” Fitz muttered bitterly. 

Jemma had never felt more confused in her entire life. She truly had no idea what he was talking about. 

“Fitz, truly, I’m not pretending anything! I-I don’t know what it is you’re talking about!” Jemma protested. 

“The letter Jemma! The one I left next to your presents!” Fitz half shouted. 

Jemma seemed to freeze. 

“Yo-you never left a letter. There was the note against the flowers, but you never said--” She started. 

Fitz stared at her for a moment, his eyes somewhat glazed. 

“Y-yes I did. I left it next to the earrings. I remember. I-I wouldn’t forget that.” Fitz stammered. 

Jemma closed her eyes for a moment trying to retrace her steps. She put in her code for the door, she opened the door, she put her books on her desk, she noticed the flowers, she turned back around again… The books. It was the books. 

“I-I was in a rush when I came in. My meeting with Weaver went over and I was in a hurry to meet you. I must have put my books on it, or knocked it off the desk and not noticed or-or something.” Jemma stammered. 

Fitz just gaped at her. 

“W-what did it say?” Jemma whispered. 

“It-uh, it doesn’t matter.” Fitz murmured, pointedly, not looking at her. 

“Yes it does. Come on.” Jemma said, trying to inject some confidence into her voice, even though it felt as if every single inch of her was shaking. 

Instinctively, without even thinking about it, Jemma grabbed for his hand and pulled him in the direction of her dorm room. She quickly regretted this however, she hadn’t realised how sweaty her hand was nor how apparently far it was to her room. It had never felt this long before. It took her two attempts to punch her passcode in to let her into her room. That had never happened before. Jemma had prided herself on it. If only her hands would stop bloody shaking. She dropped Fitz’s hand as she heard the door slam shut behind them, and made straight for her desk. Immediately she picked up the pile of books which she had deposited there earlier, and there it was, her name printed neatly on the stark white envelope. 

“I should uh- I should go.” Fitz stammered, his voice heavy with something Jemma couldn’t quite place. 

“Don’t you want to wait until I’ve read it?” Jemma asked. 

Fitz went very white. 

“Not really.” He muttered.

But Jemma had already ripped into the envelope and was pulling out its contents. She heard Fitz take a thick gulp before she started to read.

_ 19/08/2005 _

_ Dear Jemma _

_ Happy 18th birthday!  _

_ I don’t really know where to begin with this letter really, which is new. I’ve always known what I wanted to write to you, even that very first letter. You always made it easy, which is why it’s a bit odd that this seems so hard to write. You’re my best friend in the entire world, you know that, and I am so very happy and so grateful for you and it is a privilege that you consider me your best friend too. But I think, for a while now, I’ve thought of you as more than that.  _

_ Jemma, I’m in love with you. I feel like I could burst with it. I love the way your eyes twinkle when you laugh. I love it when you finish my sentences. I love it that you always seem to know exactly what I’m thinking. I love how intelligent you are, how brilliant you are. I love that you are most definitely smarter than me. I love that you’ve been there for me through everything and that you’ve put up with me for all these years, it’s incredible that you have really. I love that you always try and cheer me up when I’m grumpy, which I know is a lot, and that you started carrying snacks in your bags because you know what I get like when I’m hungry. I love that you seem to know me better than I do. You’re brilliant, and it has been a privilege to live my life, even just adjacent to yours for so long. You are my favourite person and I could not fathom my life without you in it. I love you, Jemma.  _

_ I know there’s every chance that you don’t feel the same way. If that’s true, that’s fine, I’ll get over it. Just ignore this letter. Tear it up, burn it, whatever. We don’t even have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Like I said I’ll get over it. I just couldn’t keep it in anymore. When you kissed me tonight, my cheek I mean, I thought that maybe then you were going to kiss me for real. That’s when I started hoping that maybe you felt the same way. Anyway, like I said, if you don’t, it’s really no big deal. I’m a big boy, I’ll get over it. I just had to tell you. But with this, I really couldn’t find the words to say it. I suppose I’m showing you instead. Like we always have. Everything is easier with you Jemma, and I hope you know how much I value and respect you, no matter what the outcome of this letter might be. Just, let me know when you see me. Like I said we don’t have to talk about it if you want to just stay friends. If not, just let me know, when we meet up in the quad. I know that I’m writing this almost a month before your birthday, but I already have a plan. For the first time in my life I’ll probably be early. Monstrously so. I apologise in advance if I’m pacing.  _

_ So, that’s that. I’ve done it now.  _

_ I’ll see you at six.  _

_ Love _

_ Fitz.  _

The world seemed to have stopped spinning. She read it again, just to make sure she hadn’t dreamt it, or misunderstood in any way. All evening, this whole night Fitz had thought that she’d read this, and that she was giving him the brush off. How had he stood it? No wonder he’d been acting so strangely. Jemma gaped at the letter for a moment longer, before bringing her gaze up. Fitz was looking at the floor, rubbing the ball of his foot nervously into the carpet. 

“Fitz.” Jemma breathed.

He looked up. Poor thing looked terrified. 

“It’s okay Jemma.” He muttered. 

“You don’t feel the same. It’s okay. W-we can still be friends. It’ll all be fine I promi-” 

Jemma couldn’t take it anymore. She put the letter carefully down on her desk and strode over to him, bringing his head up and cutting him off by kissing him soundly. It took him a moment to respond, probably more out of shock than anything else. But when he did, it felt as if the whole world around them disappeared, as if it was just the two of them in the entire universe. The glide of his lips against hers was exquisite. Jemma had never experienced anything like it. Her hands came up to caress his face, whilst his wrapped around her and pulled her closer. When, finally, they parted, they did not go far, resting their foreheads on each others. 

“Jemma.” Fitz breathed. 

His accent seemed thicker, headier and it took every ounce of Jemma’s self will not to kiss him again. Every part of her felt as if it were on fire, but in the most delightful way. 

“Oh Fitz. I love you too. Every little tiny piece of my heart is yours.” Jemma whispered. 

Fitz let out a breathy laugh. 

“Jemma. This whole night, I-I thought…” He started. 

“I know. I’m sorry. But I have loved you for so long. Much longer than I think I even realised. It’s you Fitz. Of course it’s you. Always.” 

Jemma leaned in and captured his lips with her own again. It was nothing less than utter bliss. Her hands raked through his curls, as she had imagined doing so many times, and oh, it was so much better than she’d imagined. In sync as always, they seemed to deepen the kiss simultaneously, and Jemma felt herself go flush all over. Before she could even fathom what they were doing, her hands were at the lapels of Fitz’s jacket, pushing the fabric softly off and away from him, and Jemma felt the frame of her bed hit the back of her knee caps. 

“Jemma.” Fitz breathed as he pulled away, his fingers toying at the straps of her dress. 

“Stay.” Jemma whispered, revelling in the feel of her breath mingling with his. 

The gentle kiss Fitz pressed to her lips was all the reply she needed. 

Jemma’s alarm went off at six o’clock the following morning. She reached out her hand, stretching to turn it off. Two warm arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her back into the warmth of the blankets, and his arms. Fitz dropped a sleepy kiss to her shoulder, before nuzzling himself into her neck. 

“S’ too early. Sleep.” He mumbled blearily into her neck. 

Jemma grinned and turned gently in his arms so she was facing him. 

“This is when I always get up, but since you’re here, I suppose I could make an exception.” She grinned, capturing his lips in a soft, slow kiss. 

She did not think she would ever tire of kissing him. 

“Good.” Fitz said against her lips, pulling her as close as humanly possible. 

“Your first class of the day isn’t until eleven. Getting up at six am truly is obscene Jemma.” 

Jemma just chuckled and kissed him again.

“Best. Birthday. Ever.” Jemma whispered, punctuating each word with a kiss.

“Yeah?” Fitz asked rather bashfully.

“Of course. I got to spend the whole day with my best friend, who gave me the most incredible presents, who also took me out for the best birthday dinner, and ended with us declaring our love for each other and having some really quite satisfying sex, so yes, I think that duly qualifies.” Jemma grinned. 

“Jemma.” Fitz muttered, his face going red rather quickly. 

She laughed. 

“Well it was. And I would quite like a repeat performance, sooner rather than later.” 

Fitz grinned. 

“Well I’m sure that can be arranged.” He smiled, leaning in and kissing her soundly. 

When Fitz awoke again that morning, it was much later, he could tell by the light streaming in through the windows. He reached out and found only cold sheets next to him. Sitting up and blinking blearily at the clock on Jemma’s bedside table, he saw that it was eleven o’clock. She’d be away at her class. Good thing he didn’t have any classes until noon. Fitz stretched, a smile spread across his face. He couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t. As he opened his eyes again, he caught sight of something small and orange on Jemma’s pillow. He peeled the post-it note off the pillow and read. 

_ Meet me for lunch at 1:30pm? Usual place.  _

_ I love you. _

_ Jemma. _

Fitz beamed. He felt so happy that he could explode with it. Getting up and getting dressed, Fitz slipped the note into his pocket, in order to keep her with him all day. Jemma. His best friend, the love of his life. Jemma had been right. He couldn’t have imagined a better day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, being the little romantic bean that Fitz is, I figured he would choose the flowers he sent to Jemma with VERY specific intentions. Cut to: me researching what flowers are in bloom in September and have romantic connotations. LUCKILY FOR ME sunflowers hit this all perfectly:
> 
> Sunflowers signify pure thoughts. It symbolizes adoration and dedication. It is symbolic of dedicated love.
> 
> LIKE HOW UTTERLY PERFECT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> This chapter was honestly the first thing that sprang to mind when I was first given this prompt and I basically worked everything else around it. I'm so excited that it is up and you can read it. I love it to bits and I hope you all do too! 
> 
> Also did I mention the last chapter is an epilogue, cause yeah it's an epilogue. 
> 
> It isn't very long so I will post that in a couple of days ;)
> 
> Until then!
> 
> Thank you so very much for reading!
> 
> Skye :)


	6. Epilogue - 2013 (Twenty-Six Years Old), 2019 ( Thirty-Two Years Old) & 2020 (Thirty-Three Years Old)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter what happens in their lives, no matter how many years go by, they still trade letters back and forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyssssssssssss it’s the last chapter!!! I’m so excited for you to read it but I’m also very sad that this lil story is at its end! This is honestly just a cute little epilogue and I hope you enjoy it! I would like to give one final thanks to Racquel who started this all by coming up with this prompt! Thank you for setting my imagination on fire, and I hope you love it just as much as I do. Anyway without further ado I will let you get to reading!

_ 09/03/2013 _

_ Dear Jemma _

_ I love you. I cannot wait to marry you. See you at three o’clock. I’ll be the one in the kilt.  _

_ Love _

_ Fitz  _

  
  


_ 01/08/2019 _

_ Dear Fitz _

_ I love you. Living my life alongside yours has been the best adventure, but I think it’s time to add another member to our team.  _

_ Love  _

_ Jemma and Baby.  _

_ 11/03/2020 _

_ Dear Alya, _

_ Today was the day you were born. You were born at 14 minutes past 7 this morning, weighing 7 pounds 10 ounces, and you are 18 inches long. You are the most perfect thing we’ve ever seen. Our little star. We want to write to you every year on your birthday, so by the time you’re eighteen you have a big stack to read. At the moment it feels like we have no idea what we’re doing, but we promise to try our best. We love you so much. You have your Daddy’s wonderful, curious blue eyes, and we suspect his hair too, if the little blonde tufts are anything to go off of. Daddy thinks you have Mummy’s nose and her smile, even though she’s told him that it is far too early to tell something like that.  _

_ We promise to always try and do what’s best for you, to love you always and to always keep you safe. One day we will tell you about how we met, about why we named you what we did, and we promise it’s more than just because it’s Mummy’s favourite star, and why we will always write each other little notes. We have no doubt you will probably find it disgusting when you’re a teenager, and we promise to embarrass you thoroughly. Just know that we love each other so much, and from that love came you.  _

_ We love you more than all of the stars in the sky (and that’s quite a lot).  _

_ Love _

_ Mummy and Daddy.  _

  
  


_ 20/10/2020 _

_ Dear Miss MacIntosh and Miss Barton, _

_ You probably don’t remember us, but our names are Drs Leopold and Jemma FitzSimmons. Each of us were in your primary school class in 1994. It was our plan to send you a letter each, but we were delighted to find out that you got married a few years ago, which makes this a lot easier. Congratulations! When we were in your classes, you set us a writing project, pen-pals writing back and forth each week, and that’s how we met. As you maybe remember, we kept writing back and forth once the project was finished, but what you probably don’t know was that we kept writing back and forth for years, even after we met in 2003, when we were sixteen. Even to this day we still write to each other.  _

_ We wanted to write and thank you both. Thank you for setting up that project and for allowing us to get to know each other. Our lives have been made so much infinitely better for having each other in it. We got married four years ago, and we had our daughter, Alya, in March of this year. We’ve enclosed a photo of the three of us. Alya was about three months old in that photo. Without you, without that project, we would not have our daughter, and we would not have each other. Thank you doesn’t seem like enough. We’ve included a return address if you would like to write back. We recently settled down in Perthshire, for Alya really, and we would love to hear from you.  _

_ Thank you so much again, you really did change our lives.  _

_ Yours _

_ Leo and Jemma FitzSimmons.  _

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for reading!
> 
> Skye :)


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